Steele a Chance
by Sophieblue
Summary: Real, honest conversation between Laura and Remington. Chapters 1-3 take place the evening of their "wedding" on the fishing boat. Chapters 4-10 take place the following day.
1. Chapter 1

_Like many people, I really disliked the last episode of Season 4 and all of Season 5. The fake wedding was bad enough, but the rest of it was worse. This is my way of hijacking the plot, beginning right after the wedding. The first chapter picks up part-way through the first episode of Season 5 (Bonds of Steele, Part II), the evening of their wedding day. For the sake of this story, the conversation between Laura and Steel in his bedroom (the one in which they discuss getting divorced in two years) never happened. Everyone has left, and Laura is still at Steele's apartment. I make no claims to the characters._

_This story was originally posted under an "M" rating. After familiarizing myself a bit more with the stories posted on this site, I now believe that it qualifies as a "T," which will allow it to show up on the main Remington Steele page. It does contain sexual references and, in a later chapter, a discussion of violence, but nothing too graphic.  
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"Okay, well, I can't say that this has been a pleasant day, but at least it's over. I'm going home...I'll see you at the office tomorrow and we'll figure out what to do from there." Laura grabbed her purse and started for the door, but Steele headed her off.

"Um...I certainly understand your desire for a respite from all this, but if Keyes is determined to expose our little arrangement as a fraud, don't you think he will be watching us? If we spend our wedding night in separate apartments, that rather destroys the illusion of wedded bliss, don't you think?"

She stopped and dropped her purse. "Oh, God. How did I get myself into this?" She touched her mussed hair and blew out a sigh of frustration. "Fine. You're right. But I'm taking a shower. And you can sleep on the couch."

"Certainly...least I can do. Help yourself to whatever you need from my...."

She slammed the door to his bedroom and he turned, sighed, and headed for the kitchen.

_Later..._

Steele came out of the kitchen and turned on the light next to the couch, as the room was getting dark. He had removed his jacket and tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Seeing that the bedroom door was now open, he walked in and came out a moment later carrying a pillow and folded sheets, which he placed on the arm of the couch. He looked around briefly and noticed Laura standing out on the balcony, facing out toward the city.

Steele came out and slid the door closed behind him, but didn't approach her. Laura's hair was wet and freshly combed, and she was wearing a too-large t-shirt and pajama pants, with bare feet. She didn't turn around.

"Laura? Do you want some dinner?"

She brushed her hand quickly across her cheek, and turned to face him, raising her chin but not looking him in the eye. "Yes, fine. I'm not very hungry, though."

He watched her compose herself. He could tell that she'd been crying, but wanted to conceal that fact from him. She looked very young and small, wearing his clothes and no makeup. He turned to go back inside, but stopped with his hand on the door and turned to face her again.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing, just a long day," she said. She folded her arms and looked at him, and took a deep breath. He looked at her and waited.

"I guess...I'm just bothered by all the lying. The fiction that we're creating for the INS...and we're just going to get deeper and deeper into this, and I wonder what it will take to keep it up for two years."

He gave a small smile. "We've kept much bigger lies afloat for longer than that. You created an entire agency, not to mention an entire person, out of your imagination."

She nodded, looking at the floor. "I know. But I kind of enjoyed pulling one over on everyone who thought I couldn't run my own agency." She smiled back at him. "Even after you showed up, it was still kind of fun."

He pondered this, leaning back against the doorframe. "So what's different about this?"

"Well...it's... I don't like lying about my personal life. It's starting to feel like nothing is real anymore." She turned to look back out at the city. "I don't like our relationship becoming just another piece of this elaborate set we've built."

He cleared his throat and said softly, "It's not all lies, though."

She turned her head slightly, but stayed facing away from him.

He continued, walking up behind her and putting his hand on her hip as he stood close behind her. "We do have a relationship," he said near her ear.

She sighed and placed her hand over his. "But not the sort Immigration thinks we do. I don't know if I ever want to get married, but if I do I want it to be real, I want it to be about love and passion and commitment and trust and fidelity and...." She pulled away from him and walked back toward the apartment before turning to face him again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean...." She stopped. "This is silly. We did what we had to and we can continue the charade for as long as we have to. I should be the last person to get all idealistic about marriage, given what I saw happen to my parents'."

He cleared his throat again. "I don't think it's silly. And I'm sorry that my immigration issues..."

"They're not only _your_ immigration issues," she interrupted. "They're just more fallout from my whole original set of lies."

"Well, in any case, they're _our_ problem now, and I am grateful for your original set of lies, as they've given me a life that I've become quite fond of."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And, while we may not have a legal marriage, we do have many of the other things you mentioned." He was speaking more firmly now. "I've tried to be honest with you, and if going through all this to stay with you isn't a commitment, I don't know what is."

She looked up at him sharply. "And the scheme to marry Clarissa? What brand of honesty was that?"

He shook his head and looked at his feet. "That was...a monumentally bad idea. I panicked."

She folded her arms and faced out toward the evening sky. After a long moment of silence, she asked quietly, "Are you screwing her?"

"Laura, please!" he said angrily, shaking his head and looking disgusted.

She turned to look at him, and continued in the same calm tone, "I don't think it's an unreasonable question, given the circumstances."

He seemed like he was about to argue, but then sighed. "I suppose you're right." He met her eye and said firmly, "No, I'm not. The only contact I've had with Clarissa since we first encountered her was when I ran into her at a restaurant a few weeks ago. Monroe and I met for dinner at a little Italian place that he likes, and Clarissa was there with what I assume was a client. As I was leaving she was waiting for her escort to bring the car around, and we made small talk for a moment before I continued on. I guess that's why I thought of her when this immigration mess came up."

She stared into his face for a long moment, then looked away and nodded. "Okay." She paused and nodded again. "Okay. But why didn't you tell me as soon as you knew that there was a problem with immigration?" She started to pace up and down the small balcony. "How can I trust you when you do things like this?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and said quietly, "I suppose I didn't want to put you in the position you're in right now, for all the reasons you've mentioned. I didn't want you to have to marry me."

She stopped pacing and gave him an incredulous look. "And you marrying someone else would have been better?"

"I don't know! At least that would have been just a business transaction, no baggage or expectations. Nothing to ruin if it went badly." He still didn't look at her. "There's too much at stake with us."

'What does that mean?"

He ran his hand through his hair. "It means...our relationship is neither beast nor fowl. It's got passion but no sex, commitment but no honesty...and now it's got a fake marriage license tying the whole thing together. What does that mean? What are we left with?"

"And how would a marriage license with another woman's name on it have been any better? How could we have any sort of relationship with you pretending to be married to someone else? You realize that you and I could not be seen in public together outside of business hours? That she would have been the one spending the night here..." Her voice caught, and she stopped and took a ragged breath.

"I admit that I didn't think things through. But none of that happened, did it?" he said.

"No, it didn't. But it makes it hard for me to see what we have between us that I can count on." She leaned against the stone wall and slid down to the floor, and a moment later he did the same a few feet away.

"I'm scared of being married to you," she said quietly.

He stiffened, and said forcefully, "Laura, I'd like to think that you know by now that I wouldn't..."

"Oh, for God's sake, you know that's not what I mean," she interrupted. "I've put my life in your hands a hundred times; I'm not talking about being afraid physically. I'm talking about how we're going to deal with each other. I mean, we spend, what, sixty, seventy hours a week together now? You're a huge part of my life...you're my business partner, and my best friend, and...well...whatever else you are that we haven't been able to define."

He smiled a little at "best friend," and looked at her fondly. "You're saying how do we add at least the appearance of a marriage to all of that without driving each other mad?"

"I'm saying that I'm being asked to give even more of my life over to a man who habitually lies to me, and that scares the hell out of me. I don't know why it's so difficult for you to tell me the truth, but I don't know how I can go on living a lie for you if you can't be straight with me." They sat with their backs against the wall, not looking at one another.

She drew her knees up to her chin. "The thing with my...father. I think the worst part was the feeling I had after he left, that I'd been so gullible. That he'd been lying to us all for so long and I never realized it."

"Lying to you?"

She hesitated. "I found out a few months after he left that he'd been cheating on my mother with a series of women."

"Oh, Laura. How did you discover this?"

She shrugged. "The way I learned most things at that age: eavesdropping. I overheard my mother talking to her sister. And I later found out that a lot of my friends knew about it, because he wasn't exactly subtle. I was possibly the last person in southern California to know, and my mother was the second-last. I remember feeling so stupid...so foolish and naïve. It was like being punched in the chest. I actually felt dizzy."

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered a little. He thought about reaching out to put his arm around her, but stopped himself, not sure if she would welcome his touch at this point.

She sighed and said softly, "When you lie to me, and keep things from me...when I find out about it...it feels like that. Like being punched in the chest. And I hate you for it. It makes me not want to be vulnerable to you in any way, because that just makes it easier for you to do it the next time. And I'm so, so tired of that feeling. I never wanted to feel it again, and it keeps happening." Her voice broke, and she paused for a moment, regaining control before continuing, "I wish I didn't think that you were always trying to keep me in the dark, only revealing what you have to. Can't you just talk to me for once, without worrying that you're giving up some sort of strategic advantage?"

He thought about this for a minute, then said, "The problem is that the things I should probably tell you are the things that are hardest for me to say." He paused and looked at his hands. "I guess that's rather the point, isn't it?"

She didn't respond, and the silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the city far below.

"I haven't been with another woman in over three years," he said, causing her to look over at him quickly.

"What?"

"On the subject of fidelity."

"Why...three years?"

He sighed. "I don't know if you remember that first night you spent here after your house was destroyed."

"Of course I do. What does that..."

"Please, Laura. This is difficult enough." He paused, and she waited for him to go on.

"You were upset. Understandably. In need of comfort and solace. And you made it clear that whatever I wanted from you that night, you would give."

She gave a wry grin. "And you turned me down. You think this subject isn't uncomfortable for me, too?"

"Well, the way I saw it I chose not to take advantage of your vulnerable state. There you were, in my apartment in the middle of the night wearing nothing but my shirt, willing to come to my bed, and I kissed you on the cheek and told you to get some rest."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I was wearing underwear, too," she interjected with a tiny smirk.

He groaned. "Laura, do you really think that helps? Good Lord. Now I'm picturing your underwear."

He sighed, wiped his hand across his face, took a deep breath, and continued, "The next morning I thought I'd lost my bloody mind. But the truth is, I didn't want to have you think that all I wanted from you was sex. I needed to prove that I could be a friend to you when you needed one. And I didn't want to have to always wonder if you would have ever offered yourself to me if you weren't lonely and desperate."

He crossed his ankles in front of him and folded his arms, then continued, "After that it didn't seem right to be with anyone else. I felt like I'd made a decision to wait for you, maybe an unconscious one, but perhaps that's the only kind I'm capable of making. I found that when the opportunity came up, I thought about you. And I wasn't about to make love to a woman while imagining you...I'm not going to use a woman's body without at least being present for her in that moment, valuing her for herself for at least the time we're together."

They both continued to stare ahead, he with his legs stretched out, her with her knees held up against her chest.

"Why haven't you ever told me this before?" she asked quietly.

He paused before answering. "I guess I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want it to be something I did, or didn't do, for you. I didn't want it to become a way to manipulate you into bed. And I suppose I didn't want the promise that it implied, that I wouldn't ever be with anyone else, that I'd wait for you as long as it took. Because I don't know how long I'll wait, and I don't want to be in a position of having to lie to you about it."

He cleared his throat, and added softly, "And...it reveals too much. About your place in my life. It's fairly pathetic, actually, being faithful for over three years to a woman you've never even seen naked."

They sat in silence for a time. Then she clasped her hands between her knees and said quietly, "Well, I guess I feel rather...unworthy."

"Unworthy? What on earth for?"

"Unworthy...because I'd assumed that your interactions with other women continued until more recently. And I wasn't going to let myself pine away for you while you were off enjoying yourself."

He looked grim, but said, "Laura, I didn't have any expectations about your behavior, one way or the other. Like I said, my choice was my own, and I purposely didn't tell you about it because I wanted to keep it that way." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and continued, "I suppose I would like to know, since I've bared my soul here. Not to mention that I've sacrificed a perfectly nice pair of trousers by sitting on this balcony with you."

She breathed deeply and ran her hands down her thighs. "Okay. Fair enough. Well, I haven't exactly been putting notches in my bedpost. The last time I was with someone was about a year and a half ago." She paused. "I went to the wedding of some old friends. The groom used to work with Wilson, and the four of us would double-date. Anyway, Wilson was there, and we talked, and drank too much champagne, and we spent the night together. There was never any question of it going beyond that. It was rather sweet and nostalgic at the time, but I felt completely wretched afterward, and not just from the champagne. He called a few days later and wanted to meet for dinner, but I told him I'd rather just let it go, and he understood."

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, then opened them to look up at the now-dark sky. "Wilson got a curtain-call, aye? Well, I've imagined worse."

"What kind of worse?" she asked, slightly amused.

"Butch, for one."

"What?" she asked, seemingly perplexed.

"Butch Beamis. The writer."

"Eww. The neanderthal? I have some standards." She shook her head and gave a short laugh. "No. I found him vaguely appealing in a visceral sort of way for about five minutes, but, no."

He pursed his lips and just sat for a moment, then said, "So...a year and a half ago?"

She looked up at the sky, too. "Give or take. It was a few months after we got back from France."

"Ah, during our attempt at keeping things purely businesslike."

She nodded. "Yes. Although that didn't work for long."

"Hmmm. We haven't been very good at keeping our hands off each other, have we? Even for the good of the agency."

She scooted closer to him and took his hand, linking her fingers through his. "No. But now we're supposed to be married, so keeping our hands off each other wouldn't really help the agency any longer, would it?"

He grinned and kissed the back of her hand. "I like the way you think." He paused, holding her hand against his lips, then said, "It does seem that everything has changed now, doesn't it? Up until now, the agency has been at the center of things, and our relationship was on the periphery. And now, our relationship is the thing everyone's paying attention to."

"Yes, it is. And I'm going to have to figure out how to tell people about this marriage...my sister, my mother, friends..." She pulled her hand away and covered her face as she groaned.

He nodded seriously and said, "Yes, Laura, I understand how difficult that is going to be. I'll do whatever I can to help. In fact, I'll even break the news to Murphy for you."

She laughed and dropped her hands as she rolled her eyes. "Oh, it's very generous of you to make that sacrifice." She laughed again, and shot him a sideways look. "Only if I can tell Daniel."

He grinned. "Oh, Daniel's going to need a good stiff drink over this one. He never even got a chance to try to talk me out of it."

She smiled a bit. She took a long, deep breath and said, "If we are going to do this...I need you to stop keeping things from me. I'm not trying to force your hand, I'm just saying that I can't put everything on the line for you and get punched in the chest again."

He winced when she said that, obviously uncomfortable with her repeated use of that metaphor. "Laura, I..."

She interrupted, "Because I don't think I can stand it one more time. Losing you would be hard, losing the agency would be hard, but even harder is accepting that I'm the kind of woman who gets lied to over and over again and keeps coming back for more. I'm supposed to be smarter than that; I'm supposed to have more self-respect than that."

He took a long, shuddering breath. "Laura, all I can promise is that I'll try. If I find myself keeping things from you, I'll fix it. I've never done this before, not properly. I don't think I've ever been completely honest with anyone, even Daniel. But I don't ever want to be the man hurting you like that. And I don't want to lose you. But you're going to have to do the same. I need to know that the honesty goes both ways."

She pondering this for a minute, then nodded. "You're right. I have to be willing to let you in on the important stuff. Scary as that may be." She paused, and then added, "I don't need to know everything, you know. You don't have to tell me what you're getting me for Christmas, or where you keep your porn stash."

He grinned. "Laura, you are my porn stash." She punched him in the arm, and he chuckled.

After a moment she took his hand. "It's easier when I feel that we're at least on the same side."

He held her hand in both of his, gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He didn't look at her. "I'm sorry if I've sometimes given you the impression that we're not."

She looked up at the stars and said, "Oh, I know I've done my share of misdirection, of trying to keep you guessing so you don't ever feel that I need you to stay for more than just the agency."

They were silent for a moment, and then he said quietly, "Laura..._do_ you need me to stay for more than just the agency?"

She pulled her hand away again and stood up, walked the few steps to the end of the balcony and looked out at the city again. She didn't answer out loud, but he could see her nod in the light from the apartment.

He came up behind her, as before, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She placed her hands over his arm and leaned back into him, resting her damp head on his shoulder.

They both closed their eyes, and stayed like that for several minutes.

Finally, he breathed quietly into her ear, "I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't say anything, and he held his breath. At last he heard her whisper, "I love you, too."

He wrapped both arms around her and buried his face in the side of her neck, holding her tightly. She stayed still for a little while, then turned. They looked into each other's eyes for the first time that evening, and they both smiled.

"Do you think we could go inside now?" she asked.

He took her hand, opened the door to the apartment and led her inside.

He turned to look at her again. "What now?" he asked.

She took a step toward him and pressed her body up against his. She placed her hand behind his neck and gently pulled him down into a kiss. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her more tightly against him. Her hands ran through his hair and the kiss deepened. Their tongues met gently, and played with each other as they pressed their bodies together.

As they touched, the contact became more intense, more carnal. Their previous kisses had been passionate but constrained, with one of them always stopping before things could become blatantly sexual. Laura ground her hips against Steele, and he responded in kind, not hiding his sudden hardness from her but allowing her to feel it pressed against her stomach. She broke the kiss and began unbuttoning his shirt, as he ran his hands under her t-shirt and stroked her lower back.

After she got his shirt undone, she pulled it out of his pants and slid it over his shoulders to drop it on the floor behind him. Kissing him again, she slid her hand up his thigh and barely brushed against his erection, continuing on to touch his bare stomach. He stepped back from her like he'd received an electric shock.

"Wait. Laura. Just...wait," he panted, staying several feet away from her.

She looked confused and embarrassed. "I'm sorry...I thought you wanted..." she said, with a slight note of pain in her voice.

His pupils were large and dark as he said, "I do want to, but I didn't say those things to get you to...do this. I don't want you to think that's why I said it."

Her look softened slightly. "I don't think that's why you said it."

"Yes, but what if later it looks different to you? I don't you to wake up tomorrow and think that I told you how I feel to get something from you."

She sighed and sat down on the couch, picking up his pillow and hugging it in front of her. After a moment she said slowly, "Okay, I appreciate that. But one could just as easily suggest that I manipulated you into saying it by refusing to sleep with you until you did. Or that I pressured you because you need me in order to stay in the country. Either way, I don't come out looking too good."

He looked genuinely horrified by the idea. "Laura, I don't think you manipulated me. I said it because I felt it, and because I felt you deserved to hear it. It's not quid pro quo."

"No, it's not. And while I did need some indication that you were going to be honest with me, it didn't have to be that one. I'm not that...calculating. But I have felt for awhile that I need some sign that you're not trying to have sex with me while keeping me at arm's length." Suddenly she laughed. "That sounds like quite an impressive feat, doesn't it? I'm pretty sure even you couldn't manage that," she said, with a glance toward the bulge in his pants.

He looked shocked for a moment at her ribald joke, and then cracked up. He sat down on the couch and put his arm around her.

"Okay, so we've decided that I'm not a lying bastard and you're not a conniving tease. Good for us."

"Yes, good for us," she agreed, leaning into him slightly while still holding the pillow.

He gently took the pillow from her and tossed it to the end of the couch. She turned a bit to face him; he ran his fingers along her jawline and looked in her eyes. "Do you want this?" he asked.

She met his gaze and said, softly but firmly, "Yes, if you do."

He smiled, then frowned. "Oh, Lord. I'm not...that is, I don't have anything...damn it, I'll be right back." He kissed her quickly, then stood up and said, "I'll take the Rabbit...fifteen minutes...."

She stood up and interrupted him. "Wait. It's okay. We're...covered."

He had grabbed his shirt and was halfway to the door, but he stopped and looked at her. "We are?"

She sighed and directed her eyes at the floor, looking embarrassed again. "We each had an HIV test when we changed the agency's health insurance coverage a few months ago. And I'm on the pill. Not for this...for, well, other reasons. So, as it happens...we're covered."

He looked incredulous and said, "Really? I had an HIV test?"

"You signed the consent form."

"I sign many things, Laura. Mildred could get me to adopt her if she put the paperwork in front of me before I've had my morning tea."

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "You know, I really thought you'd started reading what you sign after we nearly lost the agency over this sort of thing. But now is not the time to discuss that. You also gave a blood sample."

"I did?" He paused for a moment and thought about it. "Yes, I suppose I did. Well, that simplifies things."

He walked back around the couch to stand in front of her, tossing his shirt on the chair as he did so. He looked at her tenderly, and touched the side of her face. "This evening is getting better all the time. I don't know when I've been more grateful for your efficiency."

She stiffened and said, "That's not why I did it...I changed health insurance companies because the premium and deductible...."

"Laura, no, I know it didn't have anything to do with this...I understand that it's a coincidence. I just mean that you take care of things. Not just the cases and the clients, but all the things that keep the agency going, that keep our lives flowing smoothly. And I'm grateful."

She relaxed a little, and said, "Sorry; I didn't mean to sound defensive. This is all just...uncharted territory for us."

He pulled her into a hug and gently stroked her hair, as she sighed and nestled into his bare chest. After a few moments, she began running her hands across his back and planting tentative kisses on his shoulder and neck. He responded by whispering her name and gently pulling her face up for a kiss. Soon they were pressed against one another again, lost in each other's taste and touch.

Eventually they had to end the kiss to breathe, and they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"Are you nervous, Laura?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "A little. Are you?"

"Absolutely terrified."

She laughed, and reached up to stroke his cheek. "I promise to be gentle."

He looked at her intently. "I don't doubt that."

"I'm only sorry I'm not dressed more appropriately for the occasion. No lingerie, perfume, lipstick..."she said, pulling back a little and glancing down at her oversized clothes.

"If you'll permit me, I think I can fix the problem of your attire...." He grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and quickly pulled it over her head, dropping it on the floor. He stopped and caught his breath at the sight of her naked chest.

"I'm so very glad that your clothes had such a punishing day," he said in a husky voice.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_[There are obviously some scenes deleted from this story, for the sake of conforming to this site's guidelines for explicit content. If I do add the scenes in question, I will post the complete story on another site and include information about that here. I'm pretty sure that's okay with fanfiction's rules; if any readers have advice about that, please mention it in the reviews section. Thanks.]_

_An hour or so later, in the bedroom. They have just had a...ahem...mutually satisfying experience._

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, and then lifted himself up so as not to crush her. He looked lovingly into her eyes again, and saw that they were full of tears. She blinked quickly to stop them, but he pushed himself off of her and looked concerned. "Laura, are you alright? I didn't...hurt you? I'm sorry...."

She let out a sob as the tears overflowed. He was visibly distressed, pulling away from her and murmuring apologies, but she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down, clutching him around the neck as she cried. He held her and waited, kissing her hair and whispering reassurances. After a minute her sobs subsided, and she released him and began wiping away her tears.

"Laura?" he asked softly, "Are you okay, love?"

She let out a short, embarrassed laugh and gave a long shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I scared you...I'm fine. Better than fine. I don't know where that came from."

"Are you upset about this? Do you regret it?" he asked in a fearful whisper. There were tears in his eyes, as well.

She looked up at him tenderly, and brushed his hair from his forehead. "No, no, that's not it. I think it's..." She paused and took a deep breath. "You have to understand, I've worked so hard to stay in control for so long. Particularly where you're concerned. And a few hours ago I thought you were going to be married to someone else tonight. It's been difficult to hold it together today. I think I finally just...let go. And the result was that...humiliating little breakdown."

He looked slightly less distressed, and said, "Oh, Laura, please don't feel bad about losing control. I've been waiting for you to let yourself go with me for four years." He paused. "I'm sorry for mucking things up so badly today."

She ran her hands through his hair and said, "Well, I'll agree that you made quite a mess of things this morning, but this evening just about made up for it."

He rolled off of her onto his back, and brought her in close to hold her against his chest. Neither said anything for a few minutes; they just lay there in each other's arms and let their breathing return to normal. After a while, she said, "You know, I think that may have been one of our problems."

"What?"

"Waiting for a perfect day. Placing so much importance on the circumstances of being together for the first time. All of our failed romantic getaways...Acapulco, Catalina, Cannes, Hawaii. I think it was easier to focus on the trappings than to talk about what we really wanted from each other. It's like prom night."

"Prom night?" he asked, lazily running his hand up and down her arm.

"A number of my friends lost their virginity on prom night. There's this whole build-up to prom in American schools. Getting dressed up, and renting a limo, and being out all night...it's a big event, and it seems like a perfect circumstance to take that 'next step.' But it's often disappointing--with all that hype, it's bound to fall short--and then you feel let down because it didn't live up to your expectations. We've been trying to have a prom night. When all we needed was some time alone and a bit of honesty."

"Hmmm. You make a good point. Although we did manage to experience our first time together on our wedding night, which definitely qualifies as an event."

She laughed. "Yes, I guess we did. My mother would be proud."

He groaned a little. "Laura, I like your mother very much, but please don't mention her when we're naked."

"Fair enough."

He cleared his throat. "So this prom night thing...did you...."

"No. But Frances did."

After a moment, she giggled and said, "I was more of a last-night-of-math-camp kind of girl."

He pretended to look shocked. "What a naughty little math student you were. I only wish I'd known you in high school." He paused, and raised one eyebrow. "You were in high school, I take it? Or were you some sort of mathematical _and_ sexual prodigy?"

She hit him gently with her pillow. "Actually, it was after graduation," she admitted. "A bunch of us counselors snuck out to the lake to go skinny-dipping, and the boys went in, but then the girls all chickened out. There was one boy that I had a crush on, and he was in the water calling me a coward, so I stripped down and did a cannonball off the dock, almost on top of him. We stayed behind after everyone else had gone back to their cabins...." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry; was this more than you wanted to know?"

"Hmmm, not at all. I like hearing about your misspent youth." He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter. After a moment she moved away a little to look at him, and he stretched his arm out to the side, giving her a place to rest her head.

"What about your misspent youth? Am I ever going to hear about it?" she asked.

He sighed. "You're certainly entitled. The truth is, I've tried to forget a lot of it. It...doesn't include much in the way of prom nights and summer camp, you know."

She could see the worry in his eyes, and she ran her fingers across his forehead and down his cheek. "It's okay. You don't have to go into it tonight if you don't want to. And you don't have to tell me everything. But whatever you tell me...it's not going to change the way I feel about you. Your past played a part in making you the man I know now...so...well, it can't be all bad."

He grabbed her fingers and kissed them, and said, "No, it certainly wasn't all bad. Although the present is much nicer."

"Are you...happy?" she asked, a little tentatively.

He smiled and reached out to touch her hair. "That was quite possibly the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. So, yes, I'd say I'm happy."

She smiled mischievously and said, "I'm happy, too." She propped herself up on one elbow and said, "And hungry. Didn't you mention dinner about...oh, two or three hours ago?"

He chuckled. "Whatever the lady wants. I'll go see what the pasta looks like after our little interlude."

He kissed her forehead and got up and went to his dresser to grab pajamas, while she watched him from the bed. He headed into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing light gray pajamas with the shirt unbuttoned. "I'll be there in a minute," she said, stretching luxuriantly. He watched her for a moment and then smiled as he headed for the kitchen.

A few minutes later she came into the kitchen wearing his t-shirt again, to see him dumping the pasta in the trash.

"Afraid it didn't hold up very well. But the salad is fine, and I thought I'd put together an omelet. I've got some of those porcini mushrooms you like."

"I'm sorry about the pasta..." she began, but he put the pan down and quickly came over and took her face in his hands.

"Laura, you may never, ever apologize for anything you did here tonight. Not the tiniest thing. Understand?"

She looked into his eyes as she held her hand against his and kissed his palm. "I understand."

While he cooked, she sat at the counter and watched him. Every couple of minutes he'd stop what he was doing to come over and kiss her. After the third time, she laughed and said, "Why do you keep doing that? It can't make cooking any easier."

He looked at her earnestly and said, "Because I can, Laura." She looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes, the naked need that he'd kept hidden for so long, and she stopped teasing him.

After a few bites of her omelet, she rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "That is just amazing. I wish I could cook."

He took a sip of his wine and said, "Do you really wish you could cook? Or do you just hate that there is something you can't do?"

She put her fork down and thought it over. "I guess I haven't thought about it much. I suppose...I feel like I should be able to cook, and it bothers me that I can't."

"But do you really want to? Because I can teach you if it's something you want. I think, though, that deep down you don't enjoy it--it makes you feel resentful, like you're giving in to a stereotype. Maybe someday you won't feel that way anymore, and then you'll be ready to learn."

"Does it bother you that I don't like it?"

"No, actually, I prefer it this way."

"You do? Why?"

"Well, Laura, there are precious few things that I'm better at than you are. Safe-cracking, I suppose, but that doesn't come up too often in our daily lives. More often than in most peoples' daily lives, I'll grant you, but it's still not a skill I get to trot out a lot. Knowing that at some point you're going to get hungry gives me a certain power over you." He smiled at her and went back to eating, as she looked at him with a bemused expression.

After they finished their omelets, she leaned back and said, "I hate to bring this up, but...what happens next?"

"Next? Well, we haven't tried it standing up yet..."

She looked a little flustered. "No! I mean...what do we do...tomorrow." She hesitated. "Do we live together? Do I have to give up my loft? This is all happening so fast, and I don't know if I want..."

He pressed his napkin against his lips, then dropped it and took her hand. "Okay, how about this. Let's take it one day at a time. Tomorrow, we should buy wedding rings. And decide on a honeymoon destination."

She looked a little pale. "Honeymoon? Rings? Oh, God, this is really...we're sort of...married."

He gave a crooked grin. "Yes, we are exactly that: sort of married. And we are going to have to make it look like we are entirely married."

She looked even more pale, and took a gulp of air.

"Now...where would you like to go on our honeymoon?" he asked.

She didn't answer and continued to look frightened.

Stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, he said softly, "Laura, you're brave enough to dodge bullets, break into museums, take part in high-speed chases...don't let a little thing like being married to me scare you. Think of it as an adventure. I can try to arrange a car chase during our honeymoon if that would help you to feel more comfortable."

She stopped gulping at the air and gradually got her breathing under control. After a minute she said, "What I'd really like is for you to take me to a place that holds fond memories for you. A place from your past that you can share with me."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Still trying to ferret out my history, aye? Is that what you really want?"

"Yes," she said gently. "I want to know more about you. I've shared everything with you, and now I want something back. Not for the reasons I used to...not because I don't trust you. Because I want to know you better."

He stopped fidgeting and said, "Alright. Well, then. Hmmm. Perhaps Ireland. I had some happy years there...all too brief, but there was a time when I felt at home."

She smiled. "Ireland it is. Can you take care of that, and the rings, while I finish up our cases? If we're going to be gone from the office for a time, I have a lot of work to tie up."

"Fair enough."

"My ring size is..."

"Five-and-a-half."

She looked astounded. "How did you know that?"

"Your grandmother's ring. You gave it to me to put in my pocket for safekeeping one night when we were on a case, and I didn't give it back to you until the next morning. I made note of the size."

"Why?"

"Never know when that kind of information might prove useful." As she tried to stutter a reply, he got up from the table and carried their plates to the sink, kissing the top of her head as he passed behind her.

She stayed seated at the table, pondering this bit of information. When he returned, she looked up at him and said, "Can I talk to you about something? Explain about...Wilson?"

"There's no need," he said a little abruptly, as he picked up their half-full wine glasses and started for the living room. She followed.

He sat on the couch and handed her glass to her, as she sat beside him and tucked one leg under her. "I know. But I think I'd feel better if I could tell you some things. I wasn't completely honest with you about...how it came to pass."

She could see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth, but his voice was calm when he said, "Very well. What do you want to say?"

Putting the wine glass on the coffee table, she sighed and pulled the hem of her t-shirt down a bit. "After we got back from France, I really struggled with how to handle the new parameters of our relationship. I know it was my idea to end our...personal involvement, but it was hard for me to not think of you...that way. A hundred times I thought about telling you I couldn't take it any more--that I'd changed my mind, I didn't care what the fallout would be, I just wanted things to be the way they used to be. Or more than they used to be. It drove me crazy to see you with other women, and there suddenly seemed to be other women everywhere.

"Still, I didn't believe, deep down, that you were sleeping with them. It still seemed like a game. I told myself that your obvious flirtations with other women were to make me jealous, to make me rescind my suggestion and throw myself at you, and my pride wouldn't let me do that."

"You were right, you know. It was mostly for your benefit. Not that I don't enjoy the company of beautiful women, mind you."

She gave a half-hearted smile and continued to fuss with the hem of her shirt. "I told myself that...until we were in Malta and I interrupted you with a woman in your hotel room."

He looked confused for a second, then said, "That Cable woman? Margo, wasn't it?"

"Margaret. If I hadn't been woken by that man breaking into my room, I never would have known that she was with you, so clearly she wasn't there for my benefit. I realized then that I was being naïve. You're an adult, you're attractive, and I'd told you that any chance of a physical relationship with me was over. It was ridiculous to think that you wouldn't move on."

"Laura, nothing happened with Margaret Cable. She came to my door not five minutes before we all ran out to the hall."

"I believe you. But you have to admit that you didn't go out of your way to make that clear at the time."

He hesitated. "No, you're right."

She began playing with a loose thread on the shirt, lacing it through her fingers and pulling it free again. "So, I felt I had to move on, too. Being celibate for so long hadn't been fun for me, either, and with the realization that I'd thrown away any chance at developing this thing between us....I was miserable. And sometimes it seemed like we were so mean to each other at work, like we weren't even friends any longer."

He sighed and put his hand on her knee. "I know. I wasn't happy, either, and I suppose I wanted it to be as unpleasant for you as possible so that you'd change your mind."

"Well, it felt like you didn't care. And so I tried not to care." She stopped playing with the thread and clutched her hands in her lap. "Spending that night with Wilson...it was a stupid thing to do. I didn't plan it, but I think I was open to the possibility on some level; I was looking for some way to get you out of my head. Of course, someone you were once in love with is not an ideal candidate for a one-night stand, but then I don't have much experience with one-night stands."

His voice was a little husky as he said, "Laura...did it...that is, your feelings for Wilson...I know you never really got over his leaving you...."

She understood what he was trying to ask. "The odd thing is that after that night, I barely thought about him, except with a bit of a cringe over my behavior. I actually got a perverse satisfaction from turning him down when he called me later. It felt good to be the one to walk away without a backward glance. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

"Unfortunately, the reason I wasn't thinking about him was that I was thinking about you. Maybe if I didn't have to see you every day, I could have gotten past it. But I didn't."

They watched the fire for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, he spoke. "You know, Laura, it occurs to me that we are extraordinarily lucky that we wound up here at all, given the dangerous games that we've played with one another. I shouldn't have let you believe that I was taking other women to bed if I didn't want you to respond in kind."

He hesitated, and put his wine glass down on the table, and then said, "Since we're discussing these things, I've always wondered...what prompted your decision that we take a break from each other when we lost our license? I had thought that things were going relatively well between us, and that conversation blindsided me. I know William Westfield had something to do with it...but I'm fairly certain that's not the whole story."

She picked up his pillow and held it, burying her face in it for a moment before answering, "The truth is, my cousin's daughter had just announced that she was getting married. She's seven years younger than I am, and she used to always look up to me when we were kids. She went to Stanford and majored in math, just like I did. The thought that she was old enough to get married, and I was still alone...it was upsetting. I felt like I hadn't been paying attention to all the time that had passed, and I really couldn't imagine our situation ending in marriage and a white picket fence, and then William showed up. He was so nice, and straightforward...it just seemed like a way to get my life back on track."

He looked pained at this confession and seemed about to speak, when she continued softly, "But I didn't go through with it. I realized that I didn't want to compromise, to take the safe option rather than go after what I really wanted. I also remembered, belatedly, that I'm a feminist, and I don't believe in getting married just to conform to some list of life goals that I didn't even write. And, I imagined myself in the same situation I'd been in with Wilson...trying to keep my true self under wraps to please a man who wanted me to be quiet, and reserved, and...."

He interrupted with a grin, "....and not drink a few tequila sunrises and perform a fan dance for his business associates?"

She groaned. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" She smiled a little. "It doesn't sound like the sort of thing a politician's wife should have in her past, does it?"

He smiled back. "Or her present. Or her future."

"Don't count on a repeat performance." She looked at him thoughtfully and stroked his arm where it rested on the back of the couch. "You've never tried to get me to be less than I am."

He looked at her hand where it rested on his arm, and thought for a moment before responding. "Laura, you know that I admire your skill, and your intelligence, and your dedication. You are frankly the hardest working human being I've ever met. I love working with you...watching your mind zip through the facts of a case is fascinating, and, frankly, kind of a turn-on." He flashed a quick grin, and then looked at her more seriously. "But...those glimpses that I've had of your other side. The times that you're playful and unreserved. When you play hooky from work because the circus is in town, or you take me on a picnic and lead me on a chase through the park. Or when you kiss me deeply and I can feel your whole body vibrate with longing, just under the surface. Those are the things that make me crave you so desperately. You're the girl who goes skinny-dipping at math camp. It's that dichotomy that made me fall in love with you."

She looked at him for a long moment, and then slowly peeled her t-shirt off and moved to his end of the couch, sliding her hands inside his pajama shirt and kissing him passionately as she straddled him. He wrapped his arms around her back and sat up straighter as he pulled her tightly against him and returned her kiss with equal ardor.

_Later, back in the bedroom..._

He reached over to turn off the light, then lay down next to here, pulling the covers over them both.

In the darkness, she said quietly, "I love you."

He pulled her against him and said, "And I love you, my dear. Hmm, I think that's going to get easier to say every time."

After a moment, he whispered, "Laura?"

"Yes?"

"Will you promise me something? Make a deal with me?"

"I suppose...what is it?"

"Just promise me that you'll be here when I wake up. Don't run back to your loft for a clean suit, or out for pastries, or...anything. And I'll do the same. I just...want us to both be here in the morning. I think that's important. Okay?"

She was silent for a few seconds, and then said, "Okay. Can I get up and make coffee?"

"Um...yes. As long as I don't have to drink it."

_End_


	4. Chapter 4

_Early the next morning. Steele and Laura are in his bed, each on their sides, with her back to his chest._

Steele opened his eyes and reached up to brush the hair out of his mouth. After a moment of apparent confusion, he realized that it was Laura's hair, and a slow smile spread across his face. Wrapping his arms more tightly around her, he buried his face in her hair again and kissed her neck. After a moment she turned towards him and looked into his eyes. Her expression was serious as she caressed his face with her fingertips, studying him as she touched his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his stubbly chin.

Gradually, her fingers made their way lower, running across his throat, playing with the hair on his chest, pausing to circle his nipples before continuing on. His breath came faster, but he didn't speak. He began touching her in return, gently running his fingertips across the freckles on her chest.

Without looking away, Laura suddenly grabbed the edge of the sheet that covered them and flung it to the bottom of the bed. She resumed touching him, watching her fingers dance over his skin in the soft morning light.

***

She was lying on top of him, with her hands flat on his chest and his arms encircling her. She kissed his chest and then looked up at him with her chin on his sternum.

"We have a lot to do today. We really should get into the office."

He smacked his forehead. "By God, you're right; we still haven't done it in the office."

She swatted him as she disentangled herself and got up, then grabbed his pajama pants from the floor and threw them at him.

"I'm serious. If you we're going to be out of the country for a week, there are a lot of things to do." She grabbed his robe from the hook on the bathroom door and slipped it on.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked incredulous. "A week? Laura, what kind of sorry excuse for a honeymoon is a week? I've waited four years...I think I deserve at least a month of unfettered, round-the-clock access to your lovely self. And no Mildred."

Yanking the belt of the robe tight, she replied, "And what kind of shape do you think the agency will be in if we leave it unattended for a month?"

He merely looked up at her, his blue eyes pleading. After a moment she chewed her lip and said, hesitantly, "Okay, two weeks."

He clapped his hands together and sprang out of bed, pulling his pajama pants on as he said, "Ha! Really, I thought I'd be lucky to end up with ten days." He kissed her forehead as he headed for door. "I'll make us some coffee and take a quick shower, then we can head over to the loft so you can change. And then how about a nice, leisurely breakfast at that little café on Vine Street?"

She followed him, saying, "How about you drop me at the loft and then go pick up something while I get ready, and we'll eat at the office?"

He turned and looked like he was about to object, but she placed a finger on his lips and said, "Two-week honeymoon, remember?"

******

_In the Rabbit, with the top up. Steele is driving._

She'd gotten steadily quieter as they got closer to the office.

"You look lovely today. Is that a new skirt?"

She ran her hands absently over the black fabric of the knee-length skirt, which she'd paired with a lightweight, blue ribbed sweater that accentuated her subtle curves and trim waist. "Thank you. Yes."

He tried to draw her out a few more times, talking about mundane things, but he eventually just settled for putting his hand on her knee, removing it when he needed to shift the Rabbit and then putting it back.

The were alone on the elevator, unusual for this time of day. She kept her hands at her sides and watched the numbers change, but he tucked two fingers under her chin and turned her face toward his. Kissing her briefly on the lips, he asked, "Are you ready for this?"

She took a shuddering breath. "No."

"It will be fine. Normal day at the office. Except that when it's over, you fall asleep in my arms. Okay?"

With a tentative smile, she nodded. "Okay."

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out ahead of him, striding purposefully toward the office. He paused for a moment and then followed her.

"Good morning, Mildred. I'm going to need you to type up the Unidac report, and then we've got to contact Barry at the DMV about..." Laura stopped when she saw that Mildred wasn't listening, but was clutching her hands gleefully and grinning at them. She appeared to be bouncing slightly.

Steele smiled back at her and said, "Morning, Mildred. Coffee ready yet?"

"Of course, boss. How..._are_ you this morning?" she asked meaningfully.

"Couldn't be better, Mildred. Lovely day. And how are you?"

Mildred giggled. "Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Steele."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake," she said, and went to her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Mildred's face fell just a tiny bit. "Is everything...okay? I didn't mean to, well, make assumptions..."

Steele smiled at her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Everything's fine, Mildred. I think she just needs some time to adjust to things. A lot has changed in the last twenty-four hours. Just try to act normally, okay?"

Mildred smiled at him again. "No problem, boss. I'll get to work on that Unidac file right away."

"Good woman. Thanks, Mildred." He patted her shoulder and glanced thoughtfully at Laura's door as he headed for his own office.


	5. Chapter 5

_That evening, around 6:00._

Steele walked into the office to find the reception area empty. He paused for a moment, then draped the garment bag he was carrying across Mildred's desk before proceeding on to his office. He rapped gently on the partially open door before walking in to find Laura at his desk.

"Laura?"

She looked up from the legal pad on which she'd been scribbling.

"Oh, hi. I'm glad you're here. I've been doing some research on the situation with INS, and it's actually a lot trickier than one might expect."

He frowned. "How so?"

"We're going to be interviewed regularly, as often as every month. There are going to be all kinds of questions, tests to see if our marriage is legitimate. We're going to have to prepare...if we stand any chance of pulling this off...."

Folding his arms, he studied her and said, "Laura, don't you think we know each other pretty well by now? What's my favorite kind of ice cream?"

She flopped the legal pad onto the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Pistachio. But..."

"How do I like my steak?"

"Rare, with béarnaise sauce, except at Jacque's because you claim their chef goes too heavy on the tarragon. Which is ridiculous, by the way, because I can't taste the tarragon at all." She wrinkled her brow for a moment. "Not that I'm exactly sure what tarragon tastes like."

"Not my fault your pallet is underdeveloped. Still, well done," he said, resting one hip on the edge of the desk. "Ask me some."

She sighed. "Fine. Um...how do I take my coffee?"

"Black and of inferior quality. One of the things I'm trying to fix about you."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, taking a few steps to stand at the window. "Okay. So we're good at the food questions. But those are all things we could know about from working together. What if they ask the sorts of things only married people can know? What if they ask you my bra size or how many pairs of shoes I own or..."

"Thirty-four B and...wait a minute...twenty? Twenty-one? I'm not certain how many pairs of running shoes you have."

She turned, looking stunned. "How do you KNOW these things?"

Pulling on his left earlobe, he said, "You, uh, left your clothes in my bathroom last night. I stopped by the apartment this afternoon and put your undergarments in the laundry and took your suit to the drycleaners. They aren't certain that they can get the mud out, by the way, but they'll do their best. Was I close with the shoes?"

"I have no idea...who knows how many pairs of shoes they own?"

"Mmm. I've got thirty-two, actually."

"Naturally." She shook her head. "There's a lot I don't know about you, though. What if they ask me questions about your childhood, about all the years before you became Remington Steele?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Do you honestly think I'd tell the INS something about my past that I haven't told you? We go with the truth, to a point...orphaned, bounced around from place to place. The tale of woe that is my childhood should stop the officials from prying too deeply, if they have any sort of conscience. Not that we should count on that."

She looked at him tenderly, searching for signs of pain in his face, but he seemed unfazed by the topic of his early life. After a moment, she walked around to sit beside him on the desk, and sighed. "I guess I'm just worried that they'll ask some obvious question, and I'll be left stammering, and the whole charade will come apart."

He cleared his throat and looked at her thoughtfully. "Have you considered that perhaps the best way to make sure that doesn't happen is to give up on the charade?"

Her voice shook a little as she asked quietly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the best way to prepare for a marriage test is to have a marriage worthy of testing. We seemed to be off to a fine start as of this morning. Am I circumcised?"

She smirked, then laughed. "No."

"There, you see? We'll just keep on as we are. I intend to have the pattern of your freckles memorized within the week."

He paused for a moment, and then stroked her face with one finger before leaning over to kiss her softly on the lips. As the kiss deepened, he slid his hand under her hair and cupped the back of her head.

Pulling away, she shook her head. "We shouldn't be doing this. In the office, I mean. It's not professional."

"Kissing? Laura, we've been kissing in this office for years. It's always been one of my favorite things about working here. I mean, aside from the excellent bagels they sell in the lobby." He grinned at her. She didn't return the smile.

He shrugged, then stood up and took her hand. "So let's go home."

She stiffened. "Whose home? Yours or mine?"

"Doesn't matter. I packed a bag, so we can stay at the loft tonight, if you like. Of course, if we do, I'd like to stop at the grocery for provisions. I can't possibly feed us on the expired yogurt cups and desiccated carrots I'm certain to find in your refrigerator."

She stayed where she was. "I...are you sure this is how we should be doing this? Maybe we should have a little time to ourselves..."

"Laura, I haven't seen you all day. You've been running around wrapping up cases, and I've been making travel arrangements." He leaned over to look at her face. "In fact, I think maybe you've had a little too much time to yourself today." His voice was husky as he said, "Something has changed since this morning."


	6. Chapter 6

The silence stretched on as he waited for her to answer. Finally, without looking up, she said, "I just don't know what comes next."

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "I thought we were going to take it one day at a time."

Still looking at the floor, she kicked her heels gently against the desk. "I guess I'm not really a 'one day at a time' kind of girl."

"All right, then." He settled himself back on the desk beside her. "Well, our flight to Shannon leaves the day after tomorrow. After we get back, we'll need to be cohabitating, on paper at the very least. I'm open to whatever you'd like to do in that regard." She didn't respond, and he went on. "You should decide if you're going to change your name. I don't blame you if you don't want to be 'Mrs. Steele' around the office, because I'm sure that the only thing worse in your mind than being the secretary is being the secretary who married the boss."

She still wouldn't look at him.

He folded his arms and joined her in studying the floor. "That's not what you mean, is it? Laura, I can't read you mind. You're going to have to tell me. What are you really afraid of?"

She took a deep breath, and in a small voice said, "I'm afraid of becoming complacent. Of relaxing into this thing with you and letting my guard down."

"Laura, do your realize that you're using military terminology to describe our personal relationship? Do I frighten you that much?"

She stood and walked away from him, running her hands up and down her arms as she paced. "Yes, you do...but not just you...me, and what I'm capable of. I know what's going to happen. I'm going to need you too much, overwhelm you in some way, and I won't even realize I'm doing it. And one day, when I think everything is fine, I'm going to walk into your apartment thinking about a case or whether it's time to get a tune-up for the Rabbit and you'll be gone. Or I'll reach into your coat pocket to borrow your keys and pull out some other woman's phone number. And I'll have that dizzy, punched-in-the-chest feeling."

She stopped pacing and turned to look at him from across the room before continuing, "And I can't stand it. I know it's coming, and I can't figure out how to prevent it, other than to never let myself forget that it's coming. Because I think it will only happen when I'm not prepared for it, because that's when I'll stop holding back, and you'll have to get away from me."

"What makes you think I'm going to want to get away from you? What makes you think I don't want all of you?"

When she didn't answer, he said, "If I need to get away from you, I'll go to the movies for the afternoon. That's what I do now, you know. And when you can't stand the sight of me for another minute, you can go for a run, or a swim, or any of those other ridiculous methods of physical torture you enjoy so much. And if that's not sufficient, I'll meet up with Daniel somewhere for a weekend, or you can spend some time with one of your Four-East friends, or...well, I was going to say 'Murphy,' but I'm not sure I want to encourage that. Although, of course, I'm not going to interfere, I mean, I know you two are still close..." his monologue faded away as she continued to be silent.

She turned away from him again, shaking her head. He came after her and roughly grabbed her arm, then stopped himself and gently turned her to look at him. "Are you unhappy about last night? Is that what this is about?"

"No, I'm not unhappy. It was...wonderful, you know that. It's just...I know this can't last." She shook her head, and brought her hand up to rub her forehead. "And I'm going to miss you. When I close my eyes I can see you gone."

He pulled back and looked at her, and said, "Laura, there is a fine line between 'carrying emotional baggage' and 'being stark-raving mad,' and you're approaching that line."

Dropping her hand from her face, she looked up at him. He studied her for a moment. Almost whispering, he said, "You really believed that this would be the end for us."

"Maybe not the end. But...the beginning of the end."

"Is this why four years? Is this why you wouldn't take the next step? But why...who says it has to end?"

She snorted. "Of course it has to end. What, you think we just step straight into domestic bliss and wind up sitting in matching rocking chairs when we're eighty, bouncing the grandkids on our knees?"

Now he walked away from her and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I've learned not to count on things, not to plan too far ahead. But I don't think that's impossible. I don't assume that we don't stand a chance."

Turning to face her again, he said, "Look, Laura, I know that there are times when I've let you down. But I'm still here. I've always come back to you. And last night I finally got what I've been waiting for, what I've stuck around for all this time."

Anger flared in her eyes. "So you admit that you've only stayed..."

"For you, yes," he interrupted loudly. "Not just to have sex with you, although that was bloody marvelous and I'm not going to apologize for wanting it. I've stayed because I wanted to wake up with your hair in my face and your bare back against my chest. I wanted to eat omelets with you at one in the morning and drive to the office with you and see Mildred raise her eyebrows and not give a damn. And there are a lot more things that I intend to do...I want to check into a hotel with you and not have any question about the sleeping arrangements. I want to watch movies with you on the couch on a Sunday afternoon with my hand under your shirt. I want to buy your birthday present and not worry that it might be too personal, that it might cross some invisible boundary of our relationship. I want to watch you get dressed in the morning, after you've stopped being self-conscious about me watching."

He paused, and took a deep breath. "That doesn't mean I don't want what we've had all along. I still want to work on cases with you and fight with you and see you roll your eyes when I whine about doing legwork. Don't you see? This is just...more. And it doesn't have an expiration date."

"Actually, it does." When he looked confused, she added, "Two years."

He looked shocked, and hurt. "Laura, I thought we worked this out last night. I didn't sleep with you to pull a fast one over on your government. And, while I'll grant you that a fake marriage may not be have been the best way to launch the next phase in our relationship, it doesn't make what we have any less real. I mean, my very existence as Remington Steele is based on a lie, and yet it feels more genuine to me all the time."

"I know...I didn't mean..." she stammered and then was silent again.

"Look...I know this marriage is yet another thing that I've slipped into through a back window rather than walking in through the front door," he said, placing his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. "I'm sorry that this is the way I seem to move through life. You certainly deserve the kind of man who is brave enough to get down on one knee and ask you to have a real wedding with bridesmaids and flowers and those dreadful sugar-coated almond things...the kind of man who never climbs into anything through the back window."

"No." She quickly crossed the room and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking her head. "No...that's not it," she said forcefully. "All the pretty trappings aren't a guarantee that things won't fall apart. My parents had that. It didn't change anything...not in the long run. And I've been with men who promised me I could count on them, who did everything right. They walked in through the front door. But that didn't stop them from sneaking out through a back window." She took his head in her hands and gently brought his gaze up to meet hers. There was certainty in her voice as she said, "You're what I want. I don't wish you were different. I wish I were different. I wish I could enjoy this without being so damned afraid."

He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, leaning forward so that their foreheads touched. They stood still for a long moment.

Pulling back to look at him, she said, "It's just...faith doesn't come easily to me. It's not that I doubt you, exactly. But things change, and I can't help but think that, before long, you're going to be looking for a way out."

"Look at me." He gently pulled her chin up so that he could look in her eyes. "If you can't believe that I'm not going to leave you, how about this: I promise you that if I ever want out, I will tell you, face to face. I won't let you find out by walking into an empty apartment, or stumbling across another woman's phone number. If you find a woman's phone number in my pocket, it's for a potential client or Mildred's sister or some-such. If I disappear without a trace, you'd better start looking for me, because it means that Major Descoine has escaped and bonked me on the head and dragged me off somewhere. I don't plan on leaving you or being with anyone else, but I promise you...I will tell you if that ever changes. I owe you a lot, Laura, and I swear to you, on everything we've been to each other over the past four years and in particular the last twenty-four hours, that I will tell you."

He kissed her gently on the lips, and then pulled back a couple of inches and asked softly, "Can you believe me?"

She didn't meet his eye. "I'm...trying. I've just always assumed that you would leave, one of these days."

He stepped away, and walked over to look out the window. "You know, I've often thought about leaving...often asked myself what it would take to make me walk away."

After a moment she asked in a small voice, "And what was your answer?"

Looking blankly out the window, he said, "I don't think I could stay if you fell in love with someone else. I've tried to imagine coming in to the office, working and talking and laughing with you all day, and then watching you go home to another man." He tapped his knuckles absently on the window and turned back toward her. "Murphy, for all his faults, saw the writing on the wall and left with his dignity intact. I promised myself that I would be man enough to do the same, if it came to that." He paused and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, rooting around for a minute until he came up with a small box, which Laura recognized as the one that held the rings they'd used posing as a married couple, the Pepplers.

She looked confused. "I guess I didn't think you felt...but you always seem so unconcerned, so unattached..." Her words faded away as she stared at him.

"You're a strong woman, Laura. You've never shied away from taking charge. Hell, this agency wouldn't exist if you did. But somehow when it comes to our relationship, you see yourself as a potential victim." Opening the box, he carefully placed both rings on the desk. Keeping his eyes on the rings, he continued, "You once told me that you were afraid of losing yourself in me. Of getting in too deep and being left. Has it ever occurred to you that I have at least as much at stake as you do? If you decide you don't want me around any longer, if you decide to get on with your life and find someone else, it's all over. I mean...I have friends, and assets, to draw on, scattered around the world...but I don't know how I could go back to that life."

His voice was raw as he looked up at her and asked, "And especially now...after last night. How could I leave you? I mean, if I were going to leave, I've had plenty of opportunities." He swallowed hard. "But now...there's this whole other side to you that I'd barely glimpsed before, and it's everything I could have hoped for. Last night--and this morning--it was incredible. I've never felt anything...being with you like that...my God, I don't even have words to talk about it." He shook his head, and looked at her pleadingly. "How do you think I could walk away from that? Didn't you feel it, too?"

"Of course I felt it!" she almost shouted. "Why do you think I'm so terrified? I think that if I lost you now, it would rip my soul right out of me." She was pacing again, fast, her hair flying around her face as she turned. "This makes Wilson look like a grade-school crush. The intimacy is just...overwhelming."

He was across the room and touching her a moment later, holding her face in his hands and looking down into her flashing eyes. "Why is that a problem?"

Her chest heaving, she held his wrists tightly. "It's not safe. Just being away from you today, trying to work...it was painful. I can't need anyone this way. I thought that maybe giving in to the urge would help, would satisfy me so that I wouldn't feel so much...but it's ten times worse. It can't be right to need another person like this." She tried to turn away.

Gripping her face more tightly, making her look at him, he said forcefully, "Laura, I know it's frightening. I feel it, too. I've been trying to play it cool all day, trying to pretend that the world hasn't just shifted under my feet. But I can't even carry on a simple conversation without thinking about you. And I've been so afraid that you would regret it, or change your mind about me. When I think of how close I came to losing you--that farce with Clarissa. My God, that could have been the end, and I never would have known what we could have."

He relaxed his grip, and started stroking the hair that framed her face. "This thing is powerful and explosive, but it's not just flash. We've spent the last four years building a relationship. That will keep us safe."

There was desperation in her voice as she asked, "How do you know?"

"I just do. Like you said last night, you've put your life in my hands a hundred times. And you've saved me more times than I can count--and I don't just mean physically. Having sex, even the kind of sex that borders on a religious experience, can't destroy that."

He looked at her for a long moment, staring into her eyes. Her jaw was set, but she still wouldn't hold his gaze.

As she looked away, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. He dropped his hands from her face and walked back to the desk. "You still don't trust me. Well, sod it. I may regret this...I don't know how angry you're going to be. But, I promised you last night that I'd stop keeping things from you. So here goes...the last big secret."


	7. Chapter 7

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

He opened the bottom desk drawer again and pulled out a stack of blank legal pads, then reached back into the drawer and pulled out two passports, which he tossed onto the desk.

She walked slowly toward the desk, looking at the passports like they might attack her. "I think I'd prefer it if you had a porn stash."

"I've never felt safe unless I know there's a way out. I've had too many close calls, too many reasons to run on a moment's notice. I know how fast fortunes can turn. So I sleep better at night knowing I have these. I normally keep them in my apartment, of course. I brought them here yesterday not knowing how the situation with Immigration was going to play out. Being deported was a possibility, but there was also the possibility of criminal charges if they found out that Remington Steele isn't really Remington Steele. So this was plan B."

She didn't move.

"Aren't you going to look at them?"

After a deep, shaky breath, she said, "Why should I? I know what they are."

He tossed the top one to her. "Open it."

For a long moment, she looked at him. Finally, she opened the passport. "Joseph Barrett? I don't think I know that one."

"Tokyo Joe..."

"...Warner Brothers, 1949," she finished quietly as she closed the passport.

She stared at the cover of the passport in her hands. "I wouldn't have even known what name to look for. At least when you left last time, I knew what aliases you would use." After a minute, she gestured at the one still on the desk. "So, what movie is that one from?"

"Also Tokyo Joe."

"You mean you got a passport in the name of a character not played by Humphrey Bogart? That's not like you."

He tossed her the second passport, and after hesitating for a moment, she opened it. Her picture was inside.

"Katrina Barrett?" Taking another step closer to the desk, she asked, "When did you get these?"

"Shortly after we got back from England. From the same source as the five I had when I met you."

"But...why?"

"Laura, I think that's pretty clear. I needed to know that if things went badly...if a case got too dangerous, or if my past caught up with me...I could get away without leaving a trail. And...well, I know it's a lot to assume, but I needed to know that you could go, too, if it came to that. If you chose to. Because, you see, I realized that no matter how uncomfortable things got here, I wasn't going to leave you unless you asked me to. So the single passport wouldn't be of much use. And...I sleep better this way."

Holding a passport in each hand, she moved over to one of the chairs in front of the desk and dropped into it. For a long time, she looked at the blue covers. Finally she said, "You realize that I could have stumbled across these in that drawer? You didn't hide them very well."

"No, I didn't. I think part of me wanted you to find them. It would have forced me to tell you everything. Everything that I've been too much of a bloody coward to tell you on my own." He cleared his throat. "I'm in love with you, Laura, and I have been for a long time now. I'm not going anywhere without you if I can help it."

Rising, she placed the passports on the desk and moved slowly around it to stand in front of him, not speaking.

"Are you angry? I know it's presumptuous of me, and it's yet another illegality that I've dragged you into..."

She shook her head as she ran her thumb across his lips, then said softly, "I'm not angry. In fact, I'd say as commitments go, this beats the hell out of bridesmaids and flowers and sugar-coated almonds." She moved closer to press against him. He put one arm around her waist and moved his other hand into her hair, cradling her head against his chest. They stood and held each other for several minutes.

He started kissing her face--her forehead, eyelids, cheeks. She let out a single dry sob and clutched at him, kissing him hard. Open-mouthed, they kissed as if they couldn't get enough of each other's taste. He ground his hips into her and she pushed back, her fingers digging into his waist. She moved her mouth to his earlobe and bit down. He groaned and said, "Laura, unless you want to help me christen this desk, I suggest we get out of here." He held her hands together, and pulled away a few inches. They looked at each other, both breathing hard.

She smiled, and as their breathing slowed a bit, she said, "So let's go." She started to lead him toward the door, but Steele stopped suddenly and stepped back to the desk. "Ah-- don't want to forget these." He tucked the passports in his jacket pocket and picked up the rings.

"The Peppler rings? I'd forgotten about those."

"Yes, well, I thought they would do for the moment. I have something a bit more distinctive in mind, but that will take some time. In fact, there's a jeweler friend of mine near Limerick who is quite an artist, and I'd like to pay him a visit while we're in the neighborhood."

He turned back to her, took her left hand, and held the woman's ring at the tip of her finger. "Yes?"

She nodded, and he slid the ring onto her finger before kissing her hand.

She took the man's ring from him and, in the same fashion, paused and asked, "Yes?"

As he nodded, she placed it on his finger, then kissed his hand as he had hers.

They held hands and looked at each other for a long moment, then smiled.

He cleared his throat. "At the risk of sounding trite...your place or mine?"

"Would you mind staying at the loft tonight?"

"I was actually hoping you'd say that. I've a few fantasies involving that place that I'd like to..." He hesitated. "I don't mean that we have to do anything tonight...you don't have to feel obligated..."

She placed her hand firmly on his chest. "Okay...you may not know this about me, but I don't actually have any trouble saying 'no.'"

He grinned.

Grinning back at him, she continued, "If I'm not in the mood, or if I don't enjoy something, I'll tell you, and you should do likewise. You can't suddenly stop making lewd suggestions now that I might actually agree. That's just not fair."

He nodded with mock seriousness. "True enough."

She took his hand and once again began leading him toward the door. "Now, after we take care of your plans for the loft, I have a few ideas about what we can do in the Auburn...."

_Author's note: Some ideas in this story are taken from various other fanfiction stories-- I know I read the "how many shoes" question somewhere, and also the "Laura's fake passport" idea somewhere else. I read these long before I had any intention of writing fanfiction myself, and I really can't remember where I saw them. So, whoever the originators of these ideas are, I thank you. Also, the Barretts of _Tokyo Joe _did not have a particularly happy marriage, but I liked the names and wanted the passport names to be those of a husband and wife in a Bogart movie._


	8. Chapter 8

_I know, this story was supposed to be over the first night, but it just keeps coming. :-)_

_For the purposes of this chapter, Laura has a cordless phone. I know we never saw one at her apartment, but they were available in the mid-eighties._

_This scene picks up after our protagonists leave the office on the day after their tuna-boat wedding._

_Feedback appreciated. (I've gotten so many nice comments so far, which is why I'm still writing this. Thank you!)_

_****  
_

Laura drove the Rabbit into the parking lot of the market near her apartment building.

"How about I get us a bottle of wine from the vintner on the next block?" she asked. " I don't think I have anything in the loft."

He nodded. "Excellent. I'll only be a few minutes; I won't buy too much since we'll be leaving for Ireland in two days."

"Okay. Red or white?"

"I was thinking of fish tonight, if the market has anything fresh."

"White it is. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes or so."

They looked at each other for a moment, and then exchanged a quick, awkward peck before he got out of the car and headed into the store. She watched him walk away for a moment, shook her head and smiled, and then put the car in gear and drove off.

****

Laura slid open the door of her loft and was about to enter when Steele stopped her. "Stay right there for just a moment."

She stood there holding her purse and a small bag of groceries, while he entered the loft and dropped his garment bag on the couch and a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. She looked confused and mildly annoyed as he took the bag and purse from her and placed them on the counter, as well. Returning to the doorway, he plucked her off the floor and carried her over the threshold.

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't we do this already?"

"We did. But I wanted to give it a try without the venomous hatred you felt for me yesterday."

"Was that just yesterday?"

He placed her feet on the floor, and she turned to slide the door shut. As she turned to face him again, he placed his hands on the door on either side of her and leaned in toward her. As he gently nuzzled her neck he said, "It's nice to kiss you in your doorway and not have to leave immediately afterward."

"Mmmm. Well, don't get too cocky. If the kiss isn't up to my current standards, I could send you on your way."

He brought his mouth to hers and gently nibbled her lips before parting them with his tongue. As the kiss deepened and she began to respond, he slid one hand up her leg and onto her thigh, under her skirt.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at her in shock. "Laura...is that...a garter belt? And stockings?"

She grinned devilishly. "I wear them sometimes when it's hot out. More comfortable than pantyhose."

His closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, looking as if his knees might buckle. "But it wasn't hot today."

"Oh, I think 'hot' is a relative term, don't you?"

He groaned and pressed his body against hers.

****

Five minutes later he was leaning against her trying to catch his breath. She was leaning back against the door, doing the same.

"Oh, my God," he said.

"Oh, my God," she agreed.

"That was..."

"Yeah."

"I'll take my time later, I promise."

"Fast can be nice, too."

"I don't think there was anything 'nice' about what we just did, Laura."

"Mmmm. Well, it may not have been nice, but it was definitely fantastic. Why didn't we start doing this years ago?"

He looked down at her with narrowed eyes.

She grinned up at him. "Just kidding."

They adjusted their clothing, most of which had just been unzipped or shoved aside. The only article that had been removed was Steele's jacket, which lay in a heap on the floor behind him. "You know, our relationship is really taking its toll on my suits," he said as he picked it up and shook it out.

"Oh, well, I suppose we could go back to the way it was before..."

He threw the jacket onto the couch and grabbed her again. "Not a chance. I'll feed my entire wardrobe into the garbage disposal before I give this up."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

"So, do I get to stay?" he asked softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Was the kiss up to snuff?"

She laughed. "I'd say the kiss definitely set a new standard."

He held her tightly for a minute and then whispered in her ear, "You said my name."

"I did?"

"Mmm-hmm."

She looked up at him. "What did I say, exactly?"

"You said, 'Steele.' Only you said it with that incredibly sexy lilt of yours. You said other things, too. You know, right as you were..."

"Oh. So I guess...that's how I think of you. When I'm not, well, thinking."

"Yes. That's quite a relief, really. I'd been a little worried that your subconscious had labeled me 'Lucifer' or just something of the four-letter variety." He looked down at her for a long moment.

Finally, he kissed her on the forehead and then walked over to the bottle of wine. "We should chill this. I'll start dinner if you want to go for a run."

She paused. "A run?"

"Don't you normally jog after work? You can do that while I cook."

Moving over to lean against the counter, she watched him fill the ice bucket and start unpacking the groceries. "So...I just go about my life and you...cook me dinner?"

He shrugged. "I told you, I don't mind cooking. I don't expect you to give up your run just to keep me company. Plus, my carnal needs have been satisfied for..." he looked at his watch, "at most an hour or so. Thus, if you want to get away from me for a little while, you should go now."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then sat down at the counter. "Actually, I'm kind of tired. I may get up and take a run in the morning."

He shook his head as he took out a cutting board. "What an appalling way to start the day. But, whatever pleases my bride..."

She began fiddling with the garlic press he'd placed on the counter. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to you calling me that."

Grinning at her, he said, "Frightening, isn't it?" He cleared his throat and, with an intentional casualness, asked, "On the subject...did you, um, call anyone today?"

She sighed. "You mean my family?"

"Mmmm. It's alright if you didn't...I know this is difficult..." He looked suddenly uncomfortable, and began unwrapping a bunch of herbs, not meeting her eye.

She grabbed his hand. "Hey." He looked up at her, and she continued, "I didn't call anyone today because I'm a big chicken and I'm afraid of my mother. And...because of all the things we talked about back at the office. Not because I'm unhappy about being with you. Okay?"

"Okay." He squeezed her hand, and said softly, "Thank you for that." He went back to unwrapping the herbs, and, in a normal tone, said, "Well, I arranged to have lunch with Monroe tomorrow so I can tell him in person. I didn't call Daniel yet. Not that I'm entirely sure where to find him these days; it may take a little time to track him down. Of course, I'm sure once he hears about it, he'll get in touch with me. Possibly by showing up in a getaway car with my plane ticket in hand."

"How would he hear about it?"

"You don't think the Los Angeles papers are going to cover the marriage of Remington Steele, acclaimed private detective and notorious eligible bachelor?"

Her face fell. "Oh, Lord. If my mother finds out from one of her bridge-club friends, she'll make my life a living hell."

He looked skeptical. "Laura, is your mother really capable of making your life a living hell? From Connecticut?"

"You have no idea." She was fiddling more aggressively with the garlic press.

"Love, you're going to break that." He took the garlic press out of her hands. "Do you even know what it is?"

Looking at it, she furrowed her brow. "Uh...lemon-juicer?"

He looked at the object in his hand. "How would a lemon...never mind. No, it's a garlic press."

"How did it get in my apartment?"

"I brought it here a year or two ago. Along with a vegetable peeler, whisk, and a few other things your kitchen was lacking. Do you ever even open this drawer?" He shook his head. "But...we've gotten off-topic. We were discussing your mother."

She sighed. "Believe it or not, I'd rather talk about the mysterious kitchen implements." She looked at her watch. "It's almost midnight there. I can't call her tonight. But I'll call Frances."

He started to hand her the cordless phone, and then held onto it. "Wait. I think we should talk about what, exactly, we're going to tell people."

"You mean...about Immigration? And the false marriage license?"

"Well, yes. Personally, I don't think anyone needs to know about the license."

"Not even Daniel?"

"Especially not Daniel. I love the man, but he has quite a mouth on him. Particularly when it suits his needs. But I do think he's going to have to know about the Immigration situation. He knows me too well to think that I'd just run off and get married without some sort of angle..."

A brief, hurt look flashed across her face, and he took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. "I didn't mean...What I mean is that if we tell Daniel about the INS side of it, he'll feel like he's in on the con. Otherwise, he's going to start digging. And I don't want him digging."

"Okay. So...maybe I tell my family that the Immigration situation caused us to push up the date? That we were going to get married anyway, but then we had to do it right away to keep you from being deported? Maybe I'll get less grief about not giving my mother and Frances a shot at driving me insane with a year of dress-shopping and cake-tasting if I make it clear that we didn't have a choice."

"It's certainly worth a try."

She looked at him and took a deep breath.

He placed the phone in her hands. "Good luck."

****

Laura took the phone up to her bedroom area, and over the next ten minutes snatches of her side of the conversation drifted down to the kitchen. Steele occasionally heard "Frances!" uttered in a strident tone, followed by less intelligible mutterings.

At last she stomped back down to the kitchen and, without speaking, began uncorking the wine over Steele's objections that it was still too warm. She looked levelly at him and said, "Unfortunately, I don't have any booze in the apartment, so it's either going to be this or the rubbing alcohol from my medicine cabinet."

He got out of her way and went back to the stove.

After she'd downed three aspirin and a glass and a half of wine, he worked up the nerve to enquire, "That bad?"

"Well, she only asked me three times if I was pregnant. I guess that's how this is going to go."

He glanced over at her sympathetically, but continued to stir the vegetables he was sautéing..

Taking another swig of wine, she picked up the phone again and said, "Okay. Murphy's next."

"Really? Do you need to call him tonight?"

She nodded, and leaned back against the counter. "I don't want him finding out from anyone but me. He was my best friend for a long time."

Looking wistful, she went on, "You know, we were quite a team at Havenhurst. He was the only man there who didn't see me as an idiot, a threat, or an opportunity to get laid. He didn't make assumptions about me; he judged me on my abilities. We were both rookies, and we supported each other, we compensated for each other's shortcomings. I don't think I would have lasted in this business without him."

After giving the vegetables another quick shake, he moved the pan off the burner and looked at her. "You know, I've had moments over the past few years when I've wondered if your life would have been better if I hadn't shown up and driven him away."

She started to object, but he stopped her. "Laura, we both know that I'm the reason he left. He would have been good for you. He worshiped you, he respected you, and he would have been loyal to you to the grave."

Smiling grimly, she said, "But he wasn't what I wanted. I loved him, but not the way he wanted me to."

After taking another sip of wine, she continued, "You know, he told me how he felt one night on a stakeout, a few months before he left. It blindsided me. I mean...he'd always been affectionate, and sometimes in more than a 'good buddy' sense, but I'd always though it was sort of a joke, that he was just playing around. Finding out that he wanted us to be more...it kind of hurt my feelings, in weird way. I mean, he was the one guy at Havenhurst who had never hit on me. And that includes the married ones and the sixty-year-olds and the guys who hated me on sight. And then I found out that he saw me that way, too."

"Wait just a minute. You know I'm the last person to stick up for Murphy, but I guarantee that he didn't see you _that way_. If Murphy acted like your friend, it's because he was your friend. Lord knows the man can't pull a con to save his life...he's the most annoyingly straightforward individual I've ever met. He clearly had romantic feelings for you, but that doesn't mean that the friendship wasn't genuine. Don't try to tell yourself now that he only stuck by you because he has a thing for long legs and big brown eyes."

She was a bit taken aback by his defense of Murphy. "I know...I didn't mean..." She sighed. "I guess it just makes me sad that what was sufficient for me, wasn't for him. I'd hoped that our relationship would never change."

"Everything changes, Laura." He reached out and stroked her cheek. "The only static relationships are between dead people or fictional characters."

She gave him a long, thoughtful look, and then held up the phone, saying, "I'll just go take care of this."

_To be continued._


	9. Chapter 9

A few minutes later she came back wearing jeans and a tank-top, with her hair in a ponytail.

"That was quick. Is he on his way here to pummel me, or did he simply take a cyanide capsule?"

"He wasn't home. He has an automatic answering machine, so I left a message."

"Ah, a temporary reprieve."

She extracted a cherry tomato from the salad he'd prepared, and studied it as she said, "I think we should get one of those machines for the office. It would help Mildred when she's alone there for the next couple of weeks." She popped the tiny tomato in her mouth.

"I'll pick one up tomorrow. Maybe Monroe can recommend a good model."

"Mmm." She finished the tomato, then hesitated. "Do you mind if I run down to the basement and start load of laundry? I'd like to start packing tonight."

"Of course I don't mind. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Is that alright?"

"Yes, that will be perfect. I'll be right back."

She went and retrieved a basket of clothes and smiled a little nervously as she left the apartment.

***

She returned to find him arranging the fish on the plates.

"Perfect timing--dinner's ready."

He carried their dishes over to the little table by the window, and she followed with the wine.

Sitting down across from him, she placed her napkin in her lap. "This smells wonderful. Thank you for making dinner."

"You're welcome."

They ate silently for a few minutes, and then Laura abruptly dropped her fork on the table and leaned back in her chair. She took a deep breath and asked, "Do you really think this can work? We just...act like we're married, even when we're alone? You cook and I do laundry and we go to the grocery store and drive to work together? Do you think it will be that easy?"

He said lightly, "No, I don't think it will be easy. When has anything between us ever been easy? Our relationship has been one long, bloody, uphill battle since the beginning. I think we're going to have some fights that will peel the paint off the walls."

She didn't answer, just continued to look at him, uncertainty written on her face.

Taking her hand, he went on, "I do, however, think it just might be worth it." He kissed her knuckles. "And you know that I'm a man who enjoys impossible challenges."

She smiled and then looked down at her plate. "Our lovely dinner is getting cold."

Releasing her hand, he said, "Eh, you do seem intent on distracting us from the food I've prepared, in spite of your proclaimed fondness for it." He flashed a smile at her and then resumed eating.

A few minutes later, he said, "You aren't drinking your wine."

"You forget; I got a head start. I don't want to fall asleep before I, well, you know..."

She reached out and ran her index finger across his wrist. He gulped.

Her voice was deep and seductive as she said, "...finish my laundry."

She grinned at him, and he grimaced and shook his head. "You're going to enjoy torturing me, aren't you? You know that now that you've had your way with me, I'm at your mercy. I'm a prisoner here, a mouse to your cat. I am merely a pawn, a toy for your amusement..."

Looking up at the ceiling, she said, "Are you going to run out of metaphors to mix anytime soon? I was going ask you something."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and said, "A puppet on a string; a faithful dog, trailing at your heels...yes, I think that's it for now. I reserve the right to add more later, though. Ask away."

She looked at her wineglass as she slowly ran her finger around the rim, and said quietly, "You honestly wouldn't mind leaving your apartment?"

"That's your question? Laura, I've left more places than I can count. It's a perfectly nice apartment, but it's just a place to sleep. If you are willing to put up with me, I'll pack up my suits and my movie posters...and my cookware, of course...and go where you tell me. Didn't you ever notice that other than the posters, I never changed a thing about the place? It's more your apartment than mine, anyway."

She continued to focus on the glass. "I guess I didn't want to think about it. It underscored the point that you could just disappear one day, that you weren't attached to anything here."

"Oh, I was attached. Just not to things."

She hesitated, and he spoke again before she could say anything. "Let's not try to work out everything tonight. Our engagement and marriage combined are less than thirty-six hours old. Just start thinking about what you want to do, and we'll figure out the details when we get back from Ireland. Okay?"

"Okay."

They finished their meal, and then she said, "So where exactly are we going in Ireland?"

"Flying into Shannon, and then driving down the west coast to the Ring of Kerry. I've never been there, but I've heard that it's some of the most beautiful coastline in the world. I thought we'd spend a week in a bed and breakfast there before driving up to County Mayo."

"What's in County Mayo?"

"I spent some time in Cong when I was a child. It's a lovely little town, as I recall. _The Quiet Man _was filmed there in 1952. I think that's part of what got me interested in movies...the locals were very proud of their town having been in a Hollywood film, and they'd show it every summer, have a big festival around it. There's a castle there, Ashford Castle, built by the Anglo-Normans in the thirteenth century, and the grounds were used in the film. I used to sneak onto the grounds and play in the woods. It's been turned into a hotel since then, and we'll be staying there for our second week. It's less than an hour's drive to Galway, so we'll be reasonable close to some fine restaurants."

"That all sounds wonderful. So we'll be staying on the western coast, not going to the Dublin area? I'm afraid I don't know much about the geography of Ireland."

He pressed his lips together and said, "Dublin...no, I'd rather not. My experiences there were...less pleasant."

She put her hand on his and said softly, "The trip you have planned sounds perfect. So...will it be cool there? I suppose I should pack sweaters?"

He relaxed a bit, and said, "Yes, it'll be a rather brisk, I expect. The B&B and the castle both have fireplaces in the rooms, so we'll be able to warm up in the evenings."

"Even better." She stood up and took both plates over to the kitchen.

He came up behind her and took them out of her hands. "Why don't you go switch your laundry around while I take care of the dishes?"

She turned in the arc of his arms and kissed him softly. "If you don't mind."

"Hmm. Not at all. Hurry back, though."

***

He'd finished the dishes and was wiping the counter when the phone rang. Drying his hands on a dishtowel, he picked it up and said, "Steele here."

After a pause, he heard, "Oh. Hi. It's Murphy."

"Murphy, old man. Laura just stepped out for a moment. How are things in Denver?"

"Um, fine. Good, actually. The agency is doing well; I added another assistant last month. He's training for his investigator's license."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Glad to hear things are going well. Ah, just a moment...here's Laura."

Laura slid the door shut behind her and he covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Murphy," he whispered.

Her eyes got wide and she hissed, "And you answered it?" She crossed the room and took the phone from him and held it against her chest.

He shrugged and whispered back, "I've answered your phone before. It doesn't necessarily mean that I'm spending the night here."

"But you are spending the night here!"

"But he doesn't know that."

"But I'm about to tell him that we just got married! Now it will be...I don't know... awkward."

Murphy cleared his throat. "I can hear you, you know."

She nearly dropped the phone.

In a normal voice, Steele said, "Well, that takes care of any awkwardness." He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "I think I'll go for a bit of a walk. Take care, Murphy."

"You too," Murphy said.

Laura waited for the loft door to slide shut and then took a deep breath.

"Hi, Murph."

"Hi, partner."

"I guess...it would be redundant for me to say that I have some news."

He paused, and then asked softly, "Did you really say 'married'?"

She starting pacing in a small circle. "Look, I know what you're going to say. I know you're going to tell me all the reasons that I can't trust him, yell at me for jumping into this...but I can't handle being yelled at right now, Murph; I just dealt with my sister and..." Her voice started to crack.

He interrupted, "Are you happy?"

"What?"

"I said, are you happy?"

She stopped pacing and stood very still for a moment. She sounded a little surprised when she said, "Yes, I am. I'm scared, and overwhelmed, but I think I may be happier than I've been in a long time."

"Okay, then. I'm glad. Are you registered anywhere?"

She sat down on the arm of the couch, her mouth hanging open. "Am I...what?"

"Well, I would've liked to have been invited to the wedding, but I still want to send you a gift."

Laura burst out laughing and slid down to the floor. "Oh, Murph." She got her laughter under control and sniffed a few times. "Thanks. You don't know how much I needed for you to be okay with this. I don't think _I_ knew how much I needed you to be okay with this. And no, we're not," she chuckled again, "registered anywhere."

"So...do I get to hear the story? I mean, I talked to you a month ago and this didn't come up, so I assume it's a pretty recent development. Or were you planning this in secret?"

She sighed. "No, no secret planning. It happened fast. I told you about the passport we got him in England? Well, it set off some kind of alarm at the INS, and they were going to deport him. We had no time." She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. "It was either marry him or lose him. And...I couldn't lose him."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and then: "Look, Holt, I've never hidden my mistrust of this guy. I spent the year after I left waiting for your phone call saying that he'd screwed you and then screwed you over. But he's stuck around for four years. That counts for something. I mean, my secretary has been married and divorced twice in that time. He's still there. So, if you're happy, I'm going to be happy for you."

"Oh, Murphy..."

He interrupted, "But, if he ever hurts you, I'm going to track him down and pull his balls out through his nose."

She giggled. "I'll pass along your good wishes."

***

When Steele came back almost an hour later, Laura had retrieved her laundry and was folding it on her bed, putting some things into her dresser drawers and others into a suitcase that was open on the floor.

He entered the apartment a bit timidly. "All clear?"

She put her hands on her hips. "He can't get here from Denver in forty-five minutes, you know."

"Eh, I wouldn't put anything past him. His hatred for me may be strong enough to overcome the laws of physics."

Going back to folding the clothes, she said, "Actually, he's fine with it. He wants to get us a wedding gift."

He trotted up the short flight of steps to Laura's bedroom area and leaned against the railing, tugging on his earlobe. "Laura, you're very amusing. I've always appreciated your dry wit. But, really, should I sleep with a baseball bat tonight?"

"I'm serious. He asked me if I was happy, and he said that you stuck around for four years and that counts in your favor. And then he said that if you hurt me he's going to track you down and...well...let's just say it won't be pleasant."

"Well, that last bit is more in line with what I expected. Still... Murphy giving me credit for being dependable? Did he sound feverish?"

"He sounded fine. Keep in mind, I didn't share the 'he-was-going-to-marry-a-hooker-instead-but-she-got-arrested' detail. I think that's another little tidbit we should keep to ourselves."

Steele winced a little at this remark, but she didn't notice, and went on, "I think he genuinely hopes this will work out for us. He's also seeing someone pretty seriously these days, which might help his attitude. They're coming to Los Angeles in about a month to visit Murphy's brother, and the four of us are going to have dinner."

"Well. How eminently civilized--oh, my. Is that...?"

He'd stopped suddenly and made his way over to the dresser, where she'd been putting pajamas away.

"What?" she asked.

Holding his breath, he reached into the open drawer and pulled out a teal-colored silk nightgown. "This...you wore this at the Devil's Playground."

She looked confused. "Possibly. I don't remember."

"I do. It's haunted my dreams."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Oh, please."

"Laura, would you, if you care for me at all...bring this along to Ireland?"

She was trying not to smirk. "If you like."

He turned her to face the mirror, and held the gown in front of her as he stood at her back. "Oh, yes. You don't know how many times I've remembered how you looked in this that night."

"Remembered?"

"Mmm. Remembered, relived, reviewed...I don't generally have a photographic memory, but some things are indelible."

She took the gown from him and folded it before dropping into the suitcase, and then turned toward him and ran her hands up his sides. He hugged her, saying "Thank you," and then kissed her shoulder before glancing up at the mirror behind her.

"What is that?" he asked, touching her upper back near her shoulder blade. A yellow-and-purple bruise extended from under the top edge of her tank-top.

"What is what?"

"The bruise on your back. How did that happen?"

"I have a bruise on my back?" She moved closer to the mirror and turned to look over her shoulder, pulling down the strap of her top. "Hmm. That's odd. I have no idea." She studied it for a moment and then laughed. "You know what it is? The door handle."

"What?"

"The handle of my front door. It must have been pressing into my back when we...well, you know."

He got pale. "You mean that's from this evening? I did that?"

She replaced the strap on her shoulder and said, "Well, _we_ did that, yes. It doesn't hurt, though. I'm fine." She started to resume packing but stopped at the look of horror on his face.

"What's wrong?"

He sat down on the bed and looked at the floor. "Laura, I'm sorry," he said in a strangled voice. "I didn't mean to..."

She shook her head and smiled at him. "Really, I'm fine. I bruise easily. It was just as likely to have happened at the gym or working on a case. It didn't hurt at the time, and it doesn't hurt now. Okay?"

"I'm sorry," he said again. He took a shuddering breath. "I promise...I'll be more gentle from now on."

She laughed. "The hell you will. I've waited too long to get my teeth rattled to have you handling me like I'm made out of porcelain."

He looked up at her helplessly.

She sat down on the bed facing him, one leg tucked under her, and placed her hand on his knee. "Really, what's wrong? Why does this bother you so much, when it doesn't bother me?"

He laced his fingers through hers. He didn't speak for a long time, and she waited.


	10. Chapter 10

_Note: This chapter includes strong language and a discussion of violent acts, which may be disturbing to some readers._

_----  
_

After a minute Steele cleared his throat, extracted his hand from Laura's, and stood up. "It's nothing in particular," he said. "I simply don't like seeing you get hurt." He took a step toward the window and stood there, looking out.

She got up and turned on the bedside lamp before reaching to the wall switches by the bed to flick off the overhead lights. The bedroom area was bathed in a pool of warm light, while the rest of the loft was dark. Grabbing the few remaining items of clean laundry from the bed, she dumped them back into the laundry basket on the floor. She sat back down on the bed and pulled the hair band from her ponytail, slipping it onto her wrist. Running her hands absently through her hair, she studied his back for a long moment. "I don't think so."

He turned to face her. "What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"I don't think that's it."

Crossing his arms, he said, with a touch of belligerence, "Oh, so you think I like seeing you get hurt?"

"No, but I think you are especially upset by the fact that you played a part in it this time," she replied calmly. "There's something more, something you thought about telling me just now, but you stopped."

He didn't answer, and she stood up and took his hand, then pulled him back to join her on the bed. "You asked me earlier tonight why I thought you didn't want all of me," she said carefully. "Well, I can ask you the same thing."

"God, Laura, why do you have to delve into all of this? Why can't there be some things that just stay buried?"

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "Because it's all connected. Your past, your fears, your dreams. Your willingness to be with me completely, physically and otherwise. I want to be the one person who gets to see you as you really are."

Dropping his eyes to the floor, he shook his head. "You don't ask for much, do you? Just my very soul."

"Not your soul. Just yourself."

"I'm not sure I even know who that is any more."

"I do. You're the man who was faithful to me without being asked. You're the man who stays loyal to his friends, no matter what their current station in life. You're the man who can, in five minutes up against my front door, make me feel things I haven't felt in...well, ever."

He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his palms. After a moment she moved her hand to the back of his neck. Leaning in close to him, she breathed into his ear, "You don't have to protect me from the dark things. I'm not afraid of you. I've never been afraid of you. I've only been afraid of the absence of you."

He slid his hand up her arm to her hand and brought it to his lips, took a shuddering breath, and finally said quietly, "For a year or two, when I was maybe ten or eleven, I had a neighbor, a girl of sixteen or so, who looked out for me. We were both in rather awful situations in terms of our home-lives...I was staying with some distant cousins who treated me pretty badly, and her father was a violent drunk. Then she got a boyfriend, an absolute arsehole, and I could always tell when she'd been with him, because she'd have these bruises...on her arms, her face...I'm sure other places. She always tried to laugh it off, saying her lover just liked it rough, but, Laura, it made me sick. She was so kind, and so pretty, and the thought of him using her and leaving her marked like that...well, I didn't know much about sex, but I knew that it shouldn't be like that. She was just an object to be fucked, and to hell with the consequences."

Laura squeezed his fingers, but didn't interrupt. He cleared his throat and went on. "By the time her father got sober long enough to figure out where the bruises were coming from, she was pregnant. So he beat her senseless. Broke her nose, blackened her eyes. I don't know what else he did, but she wasn't pregnant any longer. The boyfriend didn't even wait for her face to heal before he went back to having his way with her. I got sent on to some other place soon after, so I never knew what happened to her. But I suspect she married that bloke, or some other one just like her da."

He didn't look up, and his voice was low as he continued, "Whatever sins I've committed my life, I've always been careful not to leave a girl hurt or in trouble. Last night was the first time I'd ever had sex without a condom. And tonight was the first time I've ever left a mark on a woman."

After a minute, she lay back on the bed, pulling him with her. She settled his head against her stomach and began stroking his hair. After hesitating for a moment, he wrapped his arm around her hips.

"Thank you for telling me that," she said softly. "It can't have been easy to talk about. But it helps to know...it helps me to understand what's going on with you."

He buried his face in her stomach for a moment, and then said, "Tonight, I let myself lose control. You're different, Laura. When you called my name, when you said those things in my ear...I forgot to be careful."

She looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Oh, where do I start." She sighed, and settled his head more comfortably against her stomach, and then went back to stroking. "I've spent four years watching you. You're not a violent person. I've seen how you treat people, especially women. I've seen how you treat me. The number of times I felt you hard as a rock against my hip and got up and went home...you never lost your temper, never put out a hand to stop me. The way you touched me, and kissed me, so many times...even before last night I could have told you: You're not capable of hurting a woman, especially not one you're sleeping with. Last night confirmed it. You were every bit as gentle and skilled as I could have hoped, and then some."

He didn't say anything, and she said, "The things I was whispering in your ear...I don't quite remember them, but I'm fairly certain that I never said, 'Stop, that hurts,' correct?"

"Laura, of course not."

"Well, then. I trust you to stop if I ever say it, and you need to trust me to say it if I ever want you to stop. I'm not into pain, and I'm not into submission, and I'm definitely not into suffering in silence."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I suppose...I'm worried...it took us so long.... I pushed you since practically the moment we met. I know it was hard for you to trust me with your body. I don't want there to be anything that might erode that trust, any ugliness that might make you question this."

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him intently for a second, and then shook her head. "Wow, you still don't get it, do you?"

He sat up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...my unwillingness to sleep with you...it was never about the physical part of it. You have to know that I wanted you ever since those first few days with the Royal Lavulite. I _knew_ the sex would be good. What scared me was the possibility that once I'd been intimate with you physically you'd use that vulnerability against me in other ways."

He wrinkled his brow. "What ways?"

She sat up the rest of the way and wrapped her arms loosely around her knees. "By lying, by leaving, by manipulating me...who knows? I just knew that you had too much power over me already, and that you used it to your advantage more than once. It was always the 'morning after' scenario that gave me pause, never the 'night of.'

"I'm so sorry about what you saw as a child," she went on, her voice gentle. "But, really, I would prefer it if you took some of your concern about ever again leaving a bruise on me and put it into making sure you don't cause the kind of damage that doesn't go away in a few days."

He ran a hand over his face. "Oh, hell. The other thing's a lot more straightforward, you know." He sighed and said softly, "I really hurt you yesterday, didn't I?"

"Yes. And I don't want to bring it up over and over again. I don't want it to be something I throw in your face whenever we have a fight. But it means that it's going to take me a little longer to trust you completely."

Speaking slowly, she continued, "I think I understand your reasons for it now...but it scares me how little you understood what it would do to me. You couldn't have come up with a more efficient way to cause damage if you'd tried. 'Let's take the woman with trust issues and see how she deals with having the man she loves secretly marry someone else.' You might as well lock a claustrophobic in a closet, or feed candy to a diabetic."

He didn't meet her eye. "So...why did you give in last night?"

"Okay, first of all, I didn't 'give in.' I made a choice. And if I recall the events correctly, I jumped you."

He looked like he might argue, but then said, "Fair enough. So why did you...as you so eloquently put it...jump me?"

"You talked to me in a way you never had before. You told me how you felt. It...changed my perception of things, and I suppose I started to see, just a little bit, why you did what you did. By being the way I was, I made you turn to someone else when you needed help. And I wanted to change that."

"Laura, don't try to blame yourself for that mess."

"I'm not blaming myself. But I think I've spent so much of our relationship caught up in my own insecurities, I never bothered to consider that you might have some of your own. That it might be difficult for you to come to me and ask for help, particularly with something so personal."

Placing a hand on his knee, she said gently, "I know what it did to you when you went looking for your name, your family, and came up empty. Having the INS tell you that you're a man without a country, without a home...and then having to bare your soul to me just for the chance to be able to stay here...I can see how that would be hard. I would have helped you, would have done anything necessary for you to stay, but what had I ever done to let you know that?"

He looked at her, mystified, "You're extraordinary. After everything I've put you through, you still find a way to let me off the hook."

"Oh, you're not off the hook. Like I said, it still bothers me that you didn't think of the consequences of your actions. But I can acknowledge that if I had been...I don't know...less prickly about our relationship, maybe you would have come to me first."

She bit her lip before continuing. "I mean, I'm not sure...but I think I may be the person who knows the most about what you went through in England last year. We haven't talked about it much, but I saw how disappointed and hurt you were. It's a part of yourself that you keep very well hidden most of the time, so it's easy to miss, but I saw it. You _let_ me see it. And I think I have a certain responsibility to you because of that. I'm supposed to protect you from losing any more homes, any more names." She looked up at him. "Any more people."

He reached out to stroke her face with his fingertips, then slowly leaned in to kiss her temple. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and said, "What can I do to repay you for all this?"

"You don't have to repay me. You just have to make me believe that this was the right thing to do."

"And how do I do that?"

"I'm not sure. Give me time, I guess. Keep talking to me. Keep loving me."

He pulled back to look at her and smiled. "I can do that."

Together they stretched out on the bed and lay on their sides, just inches apart. She took his hand and let her fingers dance around his, weaving in and out as her face grew thoughtful again. "It must have been very hard for you, seeing your friend get hurt like that."

"I got over it. It just made me a bit, well, over-sensitive, about becoming that sort of man. God, I hated that bugger. And I was too small to do anything useful. So I just did everything I could to never be like him."

She kissed his fingers. "You're nothing like him."

He shifted next to her. "That bruise still bothers me."

"I know. But...," she hesitated.

"What?"

She smiled a little. "You're not the Incredible Hulk, you know."

"The what, now?"

"The Incredible Hulk. It's a TV show based on a comic book. How can you not know about the Incredible Hulk?"

"Yes, I must be grossly uneducated to lack familiarity with such an important cultural touchstone. Comic books made into TV shows are clearly a significant force in world literature."

"Mock if you must, but I'm going to have to expand your horizons on that front." She adjusted the pillow under her head. "Now, the Incredible Hulk was no Atomic Man, but he had a certain charm. Given the number of hours I've spent watching movies, you can devote an afternoon to acquainting yourself with Bruce Banner."

"Oh, goody."

"That's the spirit," she said, ignoring his sarcasm. "What I mean is...you're bigger and stronger than I am, but I seriously doubt that you can do that much damage without meaning to. For one thing, you're ticklish."

"I most certainly am not."

She raised her eyebrows.

He blew out a puff of air in frustration as he rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "Lord, woman. You make it very difficult to maintain any sort of suave persona."

"Mmm. I prefer the real thing to the persona."

Looking at her again, he said, "You do, don't you? And after all the trouble I've gone to to be a man of mystery."

She moved closer so that their lips were almost touching. "I love the thought of you dropping that carefully crafted, icy-calm façade. Allowing me to see you at your most open and carnal. You have no idea," she whispered, "what it does to me to know that I made you lose control tonight."

Placing an arm around his waist, she moved even closer so that her pelvis was pressing against his hip. "I don't believe that even in your deepest subconscious you would ever enjoy causing a woman pain. I got that bruise because I wasn't paying attention, because my mind and my body were completely wrapped up in what we were doing. The only thing you're responsible for is making me feel pleasure to the extent that I couldn't feel pain. Do you really want to apologize for that?"

His eyes were dark and he swallowed hard. "No...I suppose not," he said hoarsely. "Just so you understand that I would never hurt you intentionally."

"Duly noted. So let's not let a little collateral damage change things between us. We have four years of lust built up. We might break some knick-knacks, pull down a shower curtain or two. Maybe get a few scratches." She grinned. "I'm pretty sure I pulled your hair a little too hard this morning, but I didn't hear any complaints."

He closed his eyes and moaned deep in his chest at the memory. "Oh, no, you pulled my hair exactly the right amount."

Her hand moved to his hip, with her forearm resting across his crotch. She buried her face in his neck and took a deep breath as she inhaled his warm, familiar scent. He began stroking her back, making small circles with his fingers, as his other hand moved the strap of her top so that he could kiss her bare shoulder.

"Mr. Steele?"

"Yes, Miss Holt?"

"You mentioned some fantasies regarding my loft...would you care to tell me about them?"

Grinning, he brushed her hair back from her face and tucked a strand behind her ear. "Oh, love, I'd much rather show you."

----

_Note: I think there's a least one more chapter to come, probably set in Ireland. Feedback appreciated._


	11. Chapter 11

_A week later, in a small town on the Iveragh Peninsula, Ireland. _

He shuddered and then lay still, and she slowly ran her hands over his back and shoulders. As their breathing calmed, she shifted under him and he rolled off of her onto his back.

"Excuse me," she said, getting up and heading for the bathroom. A moment later he heard the big clawfoot tub starting to fill.

Alone, he lay there on the feather mattress and studied the beams in the ceiling. "Bloody hell," he cursed softly.

A few minutes later he was dressed and making tea in the tiny kitchen of their cottage. He'd surprised Laura when they arrived at their B&B when he explained that they were actually staying in the seaside cottage rather than in the main house. "It has a bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room with a kitchenette. We'll take breakfast and lunch at the main house, and dinner out, but this way we'll have some privacy."

She was clearly pleased with the arrangement, as they were only a few minutes' walk from the house but could see only the beach out one set of windows and the wild, overgrown hedges out another. When they'd arrived, she'd said, "This is perfect. I'm so glad you didn't arrange some elaborate, over-the-top trip to Paris or somewhere."

He looked uneasy for a moment. She caught his look, and said, "I mean it. This is what we need now-peace and quiet in a lovely setting with no distractions. I don't think I have the emotional energy for a big European city right now. After everything that's happened the last few days, this is exactly where I want to be."

"That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure if you'd feel the same. We can go to Paris for our first anniversary, eh?" He grinned, and she smiled at him without responding.

She did seem genuinely happy with their situation. Now that he thought about it, they hadn't exchanged a cross word since arriving six days ago. Their only point of contention, if you could call it that, was that she preferred to make love in the morning, while he preferred the evening. They'd settled that by partaking at least twice a day, with an occasional afternoon quickie like the one they'd just completed.

The ocean was right outside their front door, and the only time they spent apart was when she went jogging every morning while he lay in bed, spent and gloriously happy. She had convinced him to accompany her on hikes around the national forest that was a short drive from their cottage. On their second day she stood on a hillside overlooking one of the lochs, with impossibly green mountains rising up to the clouds behind it, and said, "I don't think I've ever even imagined anything so beautiful. It's as if...my senses just can't stretch to take it all in."

He came up behind her and took her in his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Mmm. I think I understand what you're describing. It's the way I felt the first moment I saw you naked."

She gave him a swift but not very hard elbow in the ribs, and he arched away for barely a second before pressing up against her again. She didn't bother chastising him for the comment. "I don't know how I didn't realize how lovely this country is when we were here last time." She paused and took a deep breath. "You know, I haven't even had any allergy problems since we got here. I normally just see vegetation and start sneezing."

"Well, it's different vegetation; you aren't sensitized to the plants in this part of the world."

"And here I thought all the sex had cured me."

He kissed her temple. "Well, on second thought, that's a distinct possibility. I think we should keep up the regimen just to be safe."

And the next day they'd rented horses and ridden alone on the beach, after he'd convinced the stable owner that they were both skilled and gentle equestrians. He'd actually been quietly impressed by her riding ability, and when he complimented her on it he learned that her grandmother had ridden horses as a child, and had encouraged Laura's interest in riding by arranging for her to take lessons. They'd cantered together through the shallow waves, not racing but just keeping an even pace, and she'd laughed with the pure joy of it as the cold water sprayed up around them.

Now, however, she wasn't laughing. In fact, he didn't hear anything coming from the bathroom.

Knocking on the door, he called out, "Laura? I made some tea. Shall I put it in the thermos and we'll go sit on the bench?"

She was silent for a moment, and then he heard a soft sigh and a splash as she moved in the tub. "I'll be out in a minute."

Her hair was still pinned loosely on top of her head from her bath when they headed out to the wrought-iron bench on a little hill next to their cottage. It was a spot where they'd spent a lot of time since their arrival. From it, they could see all the way across the strait to the other peninsula when the weather was clear, as it was now. She settled on the bench with her arms crossed and snuggled deeper into her thick fisherman's sweater.

"Your hair was like that the first time I kissed you," he observed. She didn't answer, and didn't look like she wanted to be kissed. The sun was just starting to go down off to their left, and she looked that direction, turning slightly away from him in the process.

Neither spoke as he poured out the tea and pressed a cup into her hands. Finally, she looked down at the tea and said, "Want to tell me what that was about?"

"What?" he asked, without a great deal of conviction.

Facing him straight on now, she said, "You said, 'Marry me.' Twice, in fact. Now, I'm aware that orgasm-induced proposals are not binding, but given that we're already married, I'm curious as to what you meant by it."

"Actually, we're not married. We're pretending to be married."

"We're pretending to be a lot of things."

"And what does that mean?"

She sighed. "Don't read too much into it. I'm just saying that the usual rules of fiction and non-fiction don't exactly apply to us."

"You mean that because I'm not *really* Remington Steele I can't *really* be your husband."

It was the first time that he'd used that word to refer to himself, and it took her breath away for a second.

She recovered quickly, and replied, "Look, why is this an issue? We are what we are. As long as the INS believes that we're married, what does it matter?"

"It matters," he said quietly, looking out toward the water.

She didn't respond, and he continued, "For one thing, we have a fake marriage license, which could be discovered by Keyes or anyone else at any time."

A brief look of sadness flashed across her face, but he didn't see it and it wasn't apparent in her voice as she replied, "Well, yes. But what can we do about that? If we file for a real license now, the application will show up in the system and could alert the INS to the fact that the first one was a fake."

"True. However, if we were to get married in Ireland, that marriage would be valid in the U.S. We wouldn't have to mention it unless the legality of the first wedding was questioned."

She clenched her cup of tea and looked at him coldly. "So, you figured all this out and decided to propose? I notice that you chose to forgo the clichéd 'down-on-one-knee' posture in favor of the more avant-garde 'missionary position.'"

He winced. "I didn't want to bring it up like that. I'm sorry. I just...I'd been thinking about how to broach the subject, and, in the heat of the moment...you did say that you wanted to see me with my defenses down." He risked a crooked grin, and she sighed and loosened her death-grip on the mug. He sat quietly, giving her time to process his suggestion.

She shook her head and looked out at the ocean again. "I don't know. I just don't know if I can handle..."

"What?"

"I mean...the wedding on the fishing boat was play-acting...like being undercover. I don't know how to do that again...after everything that's happened."

"Who says this one would be play-acting?"

Now she looked truly angry. "Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do you keep changing the rules?"

"What?"

"And stop saying 'what.'"

She roughly placed her mug on the ground, sloshing tea out as she did so, and stood up to walk a few yards away.

He came and stood behind her, but didn't touch her. "Laura, I'm sorry, but I genuinely don't know what you're upset about."

"I just keep figuring out how to define things between us, and then you go and..." She spun around to face him. "Do you know what you're suggesting? I can't do it...I can't make those kinds of promises to you and hear you make them to me. There's too much truth in it...or not enough..." She looked at the ground for a second, and then quietly said, "We're together now, and we plan to stay together for the foreseeable future. Can't we just leave it at that, and find some other way to keep Immigration at bay?"

He couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice as he said, "Laura, I thought you were the one who wanted a commitment all this time."

"I did. I do. But I don't want it to come out of a need to keep the bureaucrats off our backs. And I've known from the very beginning that you aren't..." She stopped.

He cleared his throat. "That I'm not...what? Husband material? Reliable? What?"

She took a deep breath. "All I'm saying is that there is a big difference between 'I love you' and 'I'll love you forever.' And I'm not sure how anyone says the latter without having some doubts."

They stood facing each other on the breezy hillside, with the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over them. He registered that this would have been a very romantic scene if it weren't for the actual conversation that was taking place.

"Are you saying you have doubts?" he asked.

"Are you saying you have none?"

He didn't answer right away, and she looked down and said quietly, "Anyway, didn't we discuss all this in Los Angeles?"

"Clearly not all of it, or you wouldn't be so upset with me and I wouldn't be wondering why."

Shifting from one foot to the other, she hesitated before answering. "I don't doubt that you love me. Or that I love you. And I know what it means that you made that passport for me...it means that you saw me as part of your future."

"True. That is what it means."

She nodded before going on. "I just don't know if that translates into a life-long relationship. I've accepted that maybe we have a chance, that maybe there is such a thing as happily ever after...but I can't let myself count on that. I have a bad habit of projecting so far into the future that I can't enjoy what's right in front of me. I don't want to do that this time."

He let out a sigh of frustration before saying, "I guess I thought that when we put on these ridiculous rings-" he said, holding up his left hand and jiggled his ring with his thumb,"mine is turning my finger green, by the way-that we were making some sort of promise to one another."

"We were. We were promising to give this a chance."

"What if I want more than just a chance?"

"Why? Why does it have to be more than it is?"

Almost shouting, he answered, "Because, Laura, there are things that married people do besides have sex. They plan their lives. They talk about where they're going to live, and what they want to be doing in five years. They schedule trips back home for the holidays, and buy couches together, and discuss whether they want to get a dog or have children or paint the living room..."

The both froze at the realization of what he'd just said. She broke the silence first. "I need...some time."

She turned and scrambled down the hill to the beach, where she began walking briskly toward the setting sun.

"Bollocks," he said under his breath. "I've done it again."


	12. Chapter 12

Steele puttered around the cottage for ten minutes or so, and then headed up to the main house where he occupied his hands if not his brain by shooting pool in the game room. After scratching twice in a row, he gave up and returned to the cottage to wait. It was almost completely dark when Laura returned.

Her checks were flushed from the ocean breeze, and her hair had come loose and floated around her face. He looked up from where he'd been attempting to read a book on the couch, and said abruptly, "You look like a young girl sometimes. When you don't have makeup on and you're wearing baggy clothes. Makes me feel like a cradle-robber." He looked away. "I'm sorry; I didn't intend for that to sound so condescending."

Leaning back against the door, Laura shrugged and said lightly, "It's fine; I know you don't mean it that way. I think it's one of the reasons I had trouble being taken seriously as an investigator when I first started out. It's hard enough being a woman in this business; it's worse if you look like you should be playing high school field hockey."

He stood up from the couch. Suddenly awkward, he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and said, "Uh, are you interested in dinner? I thought maybe we could forgo our usual spot and try the fish and chips at that little pub in town; then we wouldn't have to change."

She breathed a sigh of relief and said, "That sounds great. I really don't feel like getting dressed up tonight."

"Bring your ID. The drinking age here is eighteen, but you definitely won't get served looking the way you do without it."

"Now you're just being silly. Give me a minute to brush my hair."

He was right, though; she did get carded. They shared a couple of pitchers of Guinness, which she was developing a taste for after having declared that it resembled "slightly watered-down tar" their first night in Ireland.

The pub was pleasantly loud and cheerful, with a trio of musicians playing traditional jigs and reels in the corner, and the food delicious. With the help of the alcohol they gradually loosened up and regained some of the comfortable camaraderie they'd shared earlier in the trip.

After they paid their bill and headed out into the cool night air, Steele said, "Laura, I think we'd best leave the car and come back for it in the morning. I'm not exactly drunk, but can't say for certain that I should be driving. And you've matched me almost pint for pint. Do you mind walking home?"

She shook her head and took his hand. "Not at all. A short walk might sober me up a bit. That motor oil you like packs a wallop."

"Darlin', you need to stop comparing the local brew to petroleum products, at least within hearing of the natives. You'll earn us a beating."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Once we get out of town, we can cut across to the beach. I'd rather not walk along those narrow, curvy roads at night. I found a path the other day when I was jogging."

Just out of town they located the small gravel path leading down to the beach. As they walked along, he occasionally steered her away from large rocks or piles of seaweed in their path.

"I don't know how you can see anything," she said.

"I've always had good night vision."

"I suppose that came in handy in your former profession."

"It did. It's even more useful now, though, as I can always find you in the dark."

He pulled her to him and ran his hand up her neck, causing her to shiver. Cupping the back of her head under her hair, he dropped his lips to hers and kissed her softly. She returned the kiss and then pressed her cheek against his chest and took a deep breath. They listened to the sound of the waves lapping the beach for a long minute, as the moon came out from behind the clouds.

"We'll figure it out, Laura," he said into her hair.

She squeezed him around the waist and said, "I know." Looking up at him and grinning, she said, "Let's go home. It's cold as a witch's tit out here."

"Laura! What bawdy talk from such a young lass as yourself."

She giggled. "Hey, I grew in southern California. I've waited my whole life for a chance to use that line."

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him behind her and they ran the last fifty yards along the beach, which was now bathed in moonlight. After slamming the door of the cottage behind them, he set about reviving the fires in both the bedroom and sitting room, and she put water on for tea.

"Are you sure about the tea? It didn't go so well for us last time," he said dryly.

She took off her boots and sat down on the couch. "I'm sorry about running off like that. I didn't mean to get so emotional. We should talk about...things."

"It's perfectly understandable that you got emotional. These are emotionally charged topics."

"Maybe. But the issue of the best way to keep you from being deported is a practical matter."

He said down beside her on the couch, removed his own boots and tossed them next to hers, then leaned back with his arms stretched along the back of the couch. He took a deep breath and prepared to say something, but she beat him to it.

"I suppose we should take some time to talk about the logistics of this new situation," she said in the tone she used to discuss business matters.

"Laura..."

She ignored him. "I can see the merit in your plan. I believe in having a backup in place whenever possible, and there is a good chance of the invalid license coming to light. It would be foolish to not do what we can to mitigate the fallout if that happens."

She had made her way across the room, and was now pacing in front of the fireplace.

He put his feet up on the coffee table and said thoughtfully, "Have you ever noticed that you move away from me when we discuss anything of consequence?"

She stopped and looked around as if she had just noticed that she was no longer on the couch. "I...don't always. I just...think better when I can move."

"I think you think better when I can't touch you." He folded his arms. "But, no matter. I'm glad that you are willing to consider my suggestion." His tone was every bit as businesslike as hers had been.

Nodding, she began walking again. "Okay, then. We'll have to look into the marriage laws of Ireland; I think it would be more efficient to have Mildred do the necessary research from LA, and then we can take care of the actual application process in person. I'll have her put our documents in the mail tomorrow. I suspect that we should be able to find an official in Galway who can perform the ceremony...it shouldn't take more than a few minutes..."

Suddenly he was up off the couch and grabbing her hand. "Laura, wait. Please."

She looked up at him. "What?"

He went back to the couch, pulling down to sit beside him. "I'm sorry. Look, if that's what you want, if that's what you can give, I'll take it. But..."

"What?" she said again.

He ran his hand across his brow and paused for a long moment, and his voice was quiet when he said, "There's a Church of Ireland on the grounds of Ashford Castle. A lovely, secluded little spot." He cleared his throat and continued, "It would mean a lot to me if we could do it there."

Laura looked at him in the dim light from the fire with a thoughtful expression on her face.

She nodded slowly. "If that's what you want."

They sat quietly, the only sound the crackling and occasional pop of the wood in the fire. Just as he took a breath to say something, the kettle whistled in the tiny kitchen and she stood up and went to attend to it. He continued to watch the fire until at last she came to lean in the doorway, not holding any cups and in no apparent hurry to rejoin him. He turned his gaze to her, but chose to let her speak first.

"How did things change so fast?" she said finally.

With a wry grin, he said, "Well, INS didn't give me very much time for a long engagement..."

"I'm not kidding. How did you go from marrying a hooker to keep from being deported to 'how about this lovely little church I know' and 'let's talk about buying furniture' and 'what about children' in a week?" She moved to the end of the couch and faced him. "I'm just trying to understand how we got here. I've been trying to get a commitment out of you for years, and now suddenly..." She tossed her hands in the air.

"You still don't trust this." His voice was flat.

"I'm trying. I really am. I just don't know where it all comes from."

"It comes from wanting to make you happy, to give you what you need."

"Who says this is what I need?"

He studied her face and then looked away. "Well...I've gotten the impression from things you've said over the years that having children is part of your original plan. But then, I'm not part of your original plan. So if it's something you want...," he cleared his throat, "but not something you want with me, then I'd like to know that. Because if that's the case..."

Laura interrupted, "Wait a minute. You think I'm going to fool around with you for a couple of years and then when my biological clock starts ticking, go looking around for a nice, boring guy to play daddy? Seriously?" She looked stunned, and more than a little pissed.

Steele squared his jaw and looked her in the eye. "Well, you've been so jumpy about the subject of this being a permanent situation, and I know you have doubts about how dependable I am...I'm sure that I'm not what you had in mind for the role."

Her eyes were blazing in the firelight as she said, "I'm jumpy because I want this to last so badly that I can barely breathe."

"You do?"

She was on her feet again. "Yes. And sure, I've thought about having a family someday. But I'm a damn good investigator, and I've never seen the appeal in giving up everything I've worked for so that I can drive carpool and bake cupcakes and watch my husband chase after his secretary."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Doesn't it? How do either of us know that? The only family I've ever been part of was exactly like that, and died a slow, torturous death over the course of a decade."

"So you're saying you *don't* want children."

"I don't know! I know that I don't want to turn into my mother, or, God forbid, my father." She was in danger of wearing a path in the carpet now. "The question is, are you asking so that you can jump now, rather than later?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I say I want kids someday, are you off?"

"No!" he shouted, rising quickly. "Why do you always think that I'm looking for a reason to leave? Why do you keep plotting my escape for me?"

"And why do you keep trying to marry me off to some imaginary MBA who coaches pee-wee soccer on the weekends?" she shouted back.

"Because, Laura, that's what you go for when you start thinking about your future. I'm hardly your type."

"And I'm not a six-foot blonde with a knack for stealing priceless artwork. Screw 'type.'"

They were standing across the room from one another now, hands on hips, nostrils flaring. Suddenly, Steele laughed and flopped back down on the couch.

"What are you laughing at?" Laura asked angrily.

"You. 'Screw type.' I like that."

She snorted.

"And you, my dear, shouldn't sell yourself short; I've stolen paintings with you before, and you're quite good. As for blonde...neither Anna nor Felicia were any more blonde than you are. Carpet didn't match the drapes."

"Eww. I didn't need to know that." She paused for a second. "Although I'm glad I do."

Laura walked slowly across the room and joined him on the couch, sitting stiffly. Neither spoke for a long minute, and then she said, "I don't know if I can see children as part of the plan." She ran her hands up and down her legs. "I know that you never got to be part of a family. But I did, and I can tell you that it's not a guarantee of happiness." She sighed, her hands gripping her knees. "It can all go very wrong."

Running his hands through his hair, he said, "So...what do you want?"

She looked down at the wedding ring on her hand and began to slowly spin it on her finger before saying in measured tones, "I want...this to work. I want to trust you. I want us to be married, really married, but in a way that doesn't diminish either of us. Do you think that's possible?"

He took a deep breath. "I honestly don't know. I'm not sure how one goes about this sort of thing."

"So...where do we start?" she asked, continuing to fiddle with her ring.

"Well..." He gave a brisk sniff and firmly took her hand. "I can promise not to start chasing after Mildred. And I can promise to take on any carpool-driving or cupcake-baking that may be required at a later date-I'd hate to be responsible for some small child being injured by either your driving or your baking."

She gave him a withering look. "There's nothing wrong with my driving."

He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. "Of course not."

He pulled her back more comfortably against him, and for awhile they just sat. Finally, she said softly, "Look...I've been thinking about it, and I want to stay Laura Holt at work. I know it would probably help things with the INS if I changed my name, but I don't want to have to explain things to every client who walks through the door. And that's the name on my investigator's license."

"Fine."

She sat up a bit and looked at him sideways. "You don't mind?"

"No. I told you I would understand if you didn't want to be identified as the boss's wife. Besides, you're the one who picked the name Remington Steele...it would be pretty silly of me to take it personally, wouldn't it?"

"Well, yes. When you put it that way."

"There's another reason that I think it's a good idea." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I know that you're terrified of letting a man define who you are." She started to interrupt, but he held up his hand. "Let me finish. I'm not your father, and our relationship is never going to be like that of your parents, but you need a tangible reminder of that. I think that one day you're going to look around and realize that your life is entirely wrapped up in mine, and you're going to panic. You're going to convince yourself that this can't last, and maybe you're turning into your mother after all, losing yourself in a man. When that happens, I want you to look down at your signature and remember this conversation. Laura Holt isn't going to get lost. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Slowly, she nodded. "You know, for a private investigator, you don't make a bad shrink."

"You know, that's one job I've never had."

They watched the fire again for a few minutes, and listened to the wind picking up outside the cottage. "They were saying up at the main house that there's going to be heavy rain through tomorrow," he said. "So it looks like our last day here won't be very pleasant. We may want to head up to Ashford Castle early."

Without looking at him, she asked gently, "Why this church? For that matter, why a church at all?"

He waited a long time before answering. "It's called St. Anne's. I used to wander in there sometimes during the couple of years I lived in Cong." He stroked the back of her hand thoughtfully. "On sunny days, when the sanctuary was dark, the sunlight would come through the stained-glass window behind the altar, and it was perhaps the most dazzling thing I'd ever seen. The beauty of it...well, it was my first real taste of all that humanity can create...the paintings, sculpture, jewelry...those things that come out of our need to see something exquisite amidst all the horror that life can throw at us."

He seemed to struggle with what to say next, but she could tell that he wasn't finished.

"I don't know if it gave me faith, exactly, but I know that it's an image that I carried with me after I'd gone from that place and things got worse for a long time. I could close my eyes and see it, and it let me block out the ugliness of the world around me."

Taking his hand, she said softly, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I think we should do this."

"Get married? Are you sure?"

"No. But I don't think being afraid is a good reason not to do it."

Pulling her into his lap, he rested his cheek against her chest and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for a long time, as she absently ran her fingers through his hair and watched the firelight flicker across the ceiling. Finally she asked softly, "Did you mean what you said about...children?"

"I meant that we should talk about it."

"Well...we sort of talked about it. Or yelled about it, which is more our way."

"Yes."

"Can we talk about it more later? Say...on our first anniversary?"

He smiled up at her. "In Paris?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled back. "Fine. In Paris."

Tightening his arms around her, he said, "How about we skip the tea and go to bed?"

"You know, I'm not in the least bit thirsty."

-end-


End file.
